


Repairs

by saxyad18



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saxyad18/pseuds/saxyad18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Ward's betrayal, FitzSimmons fall out of sync for the first time in a decade. A lack of communication and a series of misunderstandings keep them both from seeing the truth: Simmons is falling to pieces trying to help Fitz feel whole. As the rift between them grows, they have to decide if what remains of their relationship is even worth saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So, after watching all of season one and the first half of season two of Agents of Shield in the span of a week, I became quite attached to FitzSimmons. Since season two hasn't been very kind to the lovable science duo, I felt like I needed to write this fic to explore and resolve some of the tension between them. I tried to stay as canon-compliant as possible, but there may be some issues here and there. Let me know if you notice something really problematic so I can try to fix it.
> 
> Several of the chapters pull heavily from the show itself in an attempt to create a feeling of authenticity and continuity. All characters and any dialogue from Marvel's Agents of Shield are the property of ABC, Joss Whedon, Jed Whedon, and Maurissa Tanchareon. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Please take a moment to leave your thoughts if you have the time.

In the decade they’ve known each other, this is the longest they’ve ever been apart. She’s not sure what she expects from him when she returns from her undercover work at the Hydra facility, but it’s certainly not the guarded stare he gives her after he asks if she’s real. She’s not even sure what to make of his statement. What she wants more than anything is to run to him and feel his arms around her. She’s still shaken from her near demise, and he’s always made her feel safe.

When he just stands there, arms crossed and saying nothing, she knows that her very presence is making him uncomfortable, and that is the last thing she wants. He’s closed off to her in a way that is foreign to them both. Realizing he’d probably reject her embrace, she decides to walk carefully toward him.

She regrets the inane question she asks him the minute the words leave her mouth, but she’s desperate to hear his voice. He just stares at her for a moment before mumbling, “I’m fine.” They both know it’s a lie.

It’s not that he isn’t happy to see her alive and well. He hated knowing that she was undercover at Hydra, and he much prefers that she will no longer be surrounded by people who might kill her at any moment. That being said, he’s not sure that he wants her here, and that unsettles him. His attempts to get over her have failed miserably, and, while he hoped seeing her again would fill the hole she left in her wake, all he feels now is an excruciating mix of pain, loss, and inadequacy.

The strain proves too heavy for them, and they both mutter half-hearted excuses before turning away from each other.

* * *

They continue to avoid each other as much as they can for the next several days. On the few occasions they have to occupy the same space, they do their best to not to talk or even look at each other. The silence between them is unbearable, and Simmons is the first to crack.

She tries everything she can think of to be what he needs, though she honestly doesn’t have a clue as to what that might be. When leaving him alone just increases the tension between them, she tries seeking him out. She keeps her voice as cheerful as she can when she asks for his help. She hopes he’ll understand that she still wants him as her partner. Out of habit, she finds herself trying to finish his thoughts, but she’s wrong more often than she’s right. When she tries not saying anything, he seems just as frustrated with her. She’s completely at a loss. Every attempt she makes just drives him further away.

He’s exasperated with her and himself. Her presence used to be a comfort to him. Now, he wishes she would stop trying so hard to pretend everything is okay. He, like her, wants nothing more than for everything to be the way it used to be, before Ward turned out to be a traitor, before he confessed feelings she clearly doesn’t return, before they both nearly died, before he became a shell of the man he used to be. He hates change, and he’s struggling to find something to hold on to when nothing is familiar anymore.

The stress of the last few months has made him even more short of temper and impatient. He’s used to being brilliant and capable and chatty. He knows that he is improving, but his recovery is so slow, and he wants more than anything to be the partner she’s used to. He tries his best, but he always feels like he’s floundering when she’s around.

After a little more effort than it should have taken, he does help her sort out the problem with her hard-drive from Hydra, and they seem to find some footing with each other. But later, when he is looking at the backlogged files, their tentative détente falls apart. She used to be able to finish his every thought; now they’re completely out of sync and they both know it. When she looks at him, he feels like she’s searching for a sign that he’s still the man she knew, and he just can’t take it anymore.

When he snaps at her, she tries to explain, “I’m not trying to treat you any differently…” but he interrupts.

“I know, but I am different, and I’m trying not to be, but I am!”

He hesitates before going on, afraid that she’ll confirm what he fears—that she knows he’s always going to be less than he was and that’s not enough for her.

“And for some reason if you can’t accept it…” he reluctantly voices.

Now, she cuts in, wanting him to understand that she does accept him, all of him, as she always has and always will.

“Oh, that’s not fair. Fitz, I’m only trying to help…”she trails off. She’s only ever wanted to help, but she’s failing. She’s not used to failing, particularly when he’s involved.

“You left! I needed help. I needed help with the cloaking. I needed help with, um, with lots of other things, and someone to talk through at least. You gave up on me!” he accuses; his hurt and bewilderment clear to her.

For a decade, Simmons has been one of the only constants in his life. He needs the stability she provides to keep him grounded. Ward’s betrayal had shocked him to his core, but he took comfort knowing that no matter what he would always have Simmons. Then she’d destroyed that sense of security when she walked away from him. As much as he loved her, still loves her, he can’t trust her now, and that kills him. In time he thinks he can accept that she doesn’t love him as he loves her, but he can’t accept her turning her back on him when he needed her most.

“I did no such thing!” she denies vehemently.

She left, yes, but she never gave up on him. She left precisely because she refused to give up on him. In her mind, staying meant she was willing to give in and accept a life for him that was less that what he could have and deserved just because she was desperate to be part of it. She wanted nothing more than to be by his side, but, after the first few weeks of his recovery, she knew without a doubt that he would never regain what he lost with her around. She’d made him dependent on her by jumping in too soon, filling in too much, and guarding him too closely. He started to look to her for everything and eventually he’d stopped progressing, content to have her fill in the gaps. So she left even though she felt like she had torn part of herself out by doing it.    

“You told me you were going to go see your mum and your dad. And then you went off to, for all I know, you could, something could have, you could have been killed. And because what? Because you think I’m useless,” he charges.

He’s certainly hurt by her betrayal of their friendship, but he’s also angry with her and himself for endangering her life. They’re in this mess because he couldn’t bear to see her die, and she’d clearly jumped headfirst into the first dangerous thing she could find because he’s apparently too broken for her. He’s livid that she would treat her life so carelessly, and he’s furious with himself for not being enough to keep her safe.

Hearing his outburst, she realizes just how much she’s failed him. The guilt over what happened to him that threatens to overwhelm her on most days increases tenfold. Her greatest effort to help him _did_ help him recover, but it has also convinced him that she thinks he is of no use to her or anyone else. She knew the price of leaving him would be high for her, and she’d accepted it for his sake, though not without considerable grief. Now she sees that she’d been too preoccupied with her own pain to consider how he would interpret her absence or the price he would pay.  She’s failed him and driven a wedge between them that she doesn’t think they’ll ever get past.

“Of course, I don’t. That’s not why I left,” she begins, before realizing that she’s not ready to admit to him that her poor decisions during those initial weeks of his recovery are the root of his current struggles.

“Then why?” he presses, impatient to understand her reasoning. He’s finally given up hope that he’ll discover something to explain why Ward betrayed them, but he has never let go of his desperate wish that there is some rational explanation for why Simmons abandoned him.

“Fitz,” she begins wearily. She wants to explain it to him, but his expectant stare unravels the last hold she has on her emotions.

She already knows that she makes him worse, but she isn’t strong enough to live in a world where he knows it too. She knows it’s selfish to keep the truth from him; she’s hurting him—has been hurting him all along—but she doesn’t have the courage to tell him. She wants to be what he needs, and, while it’s clear that she still isn’t, she can’t help but stall for more time in hope that she will be.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Excuse me,” she pleads, rushing out of the lab as the first tear escapes.

More confused than ever about what’s happening between them, Fitz makes no move to stop her. His head aches, but he’s spared from thinking about their latest tension-fraught encounter when Mack enters. Coulson needs them to figure out the explosives Hydra used on the U.N., and Fitz is more than willing to latch on to the distraction.

When Simmons returns to the lab later bearing two cups of tea, he knows that it’s her way of apologizing. He just wishes he knew what she was apologizing for.

* * *

TBC.

 


	2. Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really sets up the conflict in this fic. It's not based on anything that happens in the series. Rather, it is what I think might have happened between Fitz and Simmons shortly after she returns from Hydra. 
> 
> The perspective changes back and forth from Fitz to Simmons throughout the chapter. I wanted to show how they both felt during certain scenes and to detail how they interpret and misunderstand the actions and words of the other. I think their mutual misunderstandings are the root of all their issues.

For the next week or so, she tries to keep her interactions with him as lighthearted as she can, but the strain of pretending that their continued unease with each other isn’t upsetting her takes its toll. The nightmares she suffered through in the weeks after their rescue from the ocean have returned full force, and they’ve left her on edge. She knows it’s only a matter of time before she loses her tenuous hold on the emotions she’s tried to keep locked away for months.

When Fitz slices open his palm tinkering in the lab one day as she’s showing something to Coulson, she starts to crumble. She knows that her reaction is excessive, but she can’t help herself. She’d dreamed of their almost demise the night before, and seeing his blood brings her closer to that memory in her waking hours than she can handle.

With quick, decisive strides, she moves toward him and startles him with her speed and the manic tone of her voice.

“Fitz! What happened? Let me see.”

She reaches out for his arm immediately, an instinct born of one too many “minor” accidents and explosions in the lab. For the last decade, they’ve always been the ones to patch each other up. She can’t imagine it will be any different this time, but it is.

Already frustrated that he couldn’t even handle his tools properly, Fitz finds her demand grating. She might say that she doesn’t think he’s useless, but her actions are proof enough to him that she does think he’s helpless. Fighting the instinct to let her tend to him, Fitz draws his arm out of her reach and skirts to her side.

“It’s just a scratch, Simmons,” he mutters, clearly irritated as he uses his slightly longer legs to stride past her.

He’s annoyed that she’s bringing attention to the wound with Coulson there. Yes, fine, he thinks, he’s injured, but so what? It’s not like he’s dying, and she never would have fussed like this about a scratch before. He wants to rejoin the team, and he fears that Coulson will never think he’s ready if he sees Simmons mollycoddle him like this. He doesn’t need to be cossetted, and he certainly doesn’t want it. 

Trying not to be deterred by his brush off, Simmons trots to keep up with him. She needs to know that he’s okay. She needs to feel his heartbeat thrumming under his skin.

Reaching out, she catches the sleeve of his shirt. Before the pod, she would have just hauled him over to the nearest first aid kit, but she doesn’t have the nerve to demand his cooperation in that way with all the tension between them. She feels so uneasy about every decision she makes regarding him, worried that she’ll do more harm than good. Still, he’s injured, and she’s always mended his wounds.

Her grasp on his shirt is slight, but he yanks his arm away as if she’s burned him.

“I told you, it’s a scratch,” he hisses. He’s taken to trying to speak only in short sentences when she’s around to avoid the look she gives him when he struggles with words. To him, it looks like a mix of pity, hesitant reassurance, and poorly veiled disappointment. He can’t stand that look.

“Fitz,” she tries coaxing in a mild tone, “I just want to have a look. If it’s deep enough to need stitches…”

She doesn’t even get a chance to finish. She’s not even trying to keep her voice down, he sulks. It’s like she wants to draw Coulson’s attention to make him believe, like she clearly does, that he’s too damaged to be of use to anyone.

“Stop treating me like, like an inf..., like….a baby, Simmons!” He seethes. “I’m not so…addled that I can’t patch up a scratch.”

Except that he is, he realizes immediately. He’s cut his good hand, and he hasn't regained the dexterity he needs in his left hand to treat the cut, but she’s the last person he wants helping him right now. It will just drive home to her how broken he is.

She doesn’t know what to make of his continued rejection of her help. She knows their relationship is strained and he’s never liked being looked after, but he’s never been so vehemently opposed to her treating his wounds, no matter how trivial.  He engineering; she’s bio-chem. It has always been an unspoken agreement that she’ll put him to rights.  

“But what if you…” she tries again to offer what she can to him, desperation evident in her tone. This she can fix, and she needs to because she can’t seem to fix anything else.

“Then I’ll bloody well ask Trip or Mack.”

Coulson is close enough to hear Fitz’s testy reply and to see Simmons’s reaction. She swiftly clenches the hand that had been outstretched toward Fitz’s arm and crosses it over her breast while stepping back in one fluid move, almost as if she’s avoiding a physical blow. Fitz, who has already turned to stalk off, misses the effect of his words.

She’s hurt him so much, she concludes, that he can’t even tolerate her in a professional capacity anymore. By doing what she knew was best, she’s made him despise her, and she can’t cope with the thought that her choices have destroyed whatever they once were together and to each other and ruined what they could have been.

She knows it sounds morose, but she can’t help but feel that this is the final nail the coffin of what used to be FitzSimmons. It’s that finality that breaks the carefully constructed resolve she’s relied on to get her through the past few months. She’s always clung to the faint hope that some day, maybe far in the future, but some day they’ll be FitzSimmons again, but now even that hope is gone, and Simmons feels like she’s back in the nightmare. They’re in the pod, the water is rushing in, and the breath is being squeezed from her lungs. Only this time there is no Fitz to force the life back in her. She’s well and truly on her own.

As she tries to come to terms with the weight of her loss, she curls inward, sucking in an audible breath though she feels like she isn’t breathing at all. Her obvious distress is not lost on Coulson. The new SHIELD director feels guilty for not monitoring her recovery in the aftermath more carefully. She’d bounced from the traumatic experience as well as could be expected, better in some cases, and Coulson knows that his own worries and troubles had kept him from keeping a close enough eye on her.

Before he can speak, Simmons straightens and turns back to him. In the blink of an eye, she once again appears calm and in control. Taking a steadying breath and then plastering on a smile that is sincere but still forced, she continues reviewing the Hydra files with him. Although she wants nothing more than to crawl in bed and sob, this is her job, and she owes Coulson her best.

* * *

 

It takes nearly half an hour for her to give him a full explanation, and she’s trembling by the time she finishes. Though her voice never waivers and her explanation never falters, she’s only half-paying attention to what she’s saying. She knows he sees through her feeble excuse of needing to retrieve supplies from one of the storerooms, but he doesn’t call her bluff for now. Still, he does plan to keep better tabs on her.

She walks hurriedly, the tremors running throughout her body becoming more pronounced with each step. She can feel her control slipping again, and she knows it is only a matter of moments before she can’t hold back the tears she’s been trying not to shed since her return from the Hydra facility.

She hopes she won’t run into anyone as she struggles to her room. As unshed tears blur her vision, the sobs she’s been forcing back start to break through. With shaking hands, she fumbles with her door just long enough for one particularly loud and heart-wrenching sob to escape. She presses her palm to her mouth as if through that action alone she can prevent any more from sounding.

Too consumed by her own anguish, Simmons never notices the figure just turning the corner at the end of the hall. Fitz had stalked through the hallways of the Playground to burn off some of his frustration before seeking out Trip. Now that his hand is bandaged, he just wants to retreat to his room. He very nearly turns around when he sees Simmons, but he stops immediately when he hears her choked cry.

He knew he would probably upset her when he refused her help, and, if he’s being honest, he intended to, but this reaction seems wildly out of proportion to what he thinks was just a little tiff. He’s never known her to cry about something so trivial as him being prickly. His personality is more often than not akin to a cactus, all sharp edges unless someone knows how to handle him, and Simmons always had. She gave as good as she got. Even after knowing each other for a decade, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s been too acerbic even for her.

After closing the door, Simmons just slides down the wall, losing herself in the maelstrom of her emotions, never realizing that the source of her distress is standing just at the end of the hall.

A niggling feeling of guilt surges through Fitz as he listens to her cry for a moment, but he’s quick to quash it. She left, he reminds himself, and now she’s just mad because he won’t pretend like its all sunshine and daisies. Maybe that’ll teach her, he thinks a bit cruelly, what it feels like to get left out.

Still, his conscience knows that his malicious thoughts have no place here. He goes from mildly frustrated to utterly pissed off, at himself more than anything though he’ll never admit it, when his hallucination appears for the first since the real Simmons returned.

“Fitz,” she reproaches, “None of this is right.”

“Ahh, bugger off,” he dismisses her, refusing to turn his head to where he knows he’ll see her. He bolts from the hallway as soon as he hears the real Simmons’s breath catch on another sob. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He’s still angry with her for acting like he’s helpless. She’ll be fine in an hour or so, he convinces himself, and back to smiling like a bloody Cheshire cat.

* * *

 

He has to try even harder to shut out a sense of guilt later that night when Simmons doesn’t join the rest of them for whatever Skye and Mack have cobbled together for dinner. He’s never known her to miss a meal when others have taken the time to put it together for her. She’s polite to a fault and hates to disappoint anyone.

His meal sits heavy in his stomach as he lounges on the couch and considers his options. Speaking to her is out of the question, but he’s not feeling entirely uncharitable now that he’s had a few hours to simmer down. Moving quickly before he can change his mind again, he builds Simmons’s favorite sandwich. She apologizes with tea; he does it with food.

“You should, ah, take that down to Simmons. She’ll be…she’ll want…bet she’s starving,” he babbles as he passes the sandwich off to Skye and bolts from the room.

Skye shakes her head at his retreating form. She wishes her resident geniuses would start FitzSimmons-ing again. She, and she suspects everyone else, is tired of watching the awkward and honestly painful exchanges they’ve been having with each other. Still, she considers, Simmons _is_ probably hungry, so she’ll humor Fitz this time and not grab him by the ear and make him do it himself. She thinks she’s enough of a badass now with May’s training to pull that off without looking ridiculous.

The sound of her footsteps echoes off the empty hallways. She knows that Coulson is beside himself trying to recruit more agents, but the Playground is nearly as vacant as when they arrived.

Rapping lightly on Simmons’s door, Skye calls out, “Simmons? I brought you a sandwich. Fitz made it.” She thinks the last tidbit of information will coax her friend out if she’s feeling reluctant, but she’s only met with silence.

“Simmons? Are you awake?” she tries again.

She knows she shouldn’t invade Simmons’s privacy, but Skye can’t help opening the door just a crack to check on her friend.

All she can see in the sliver of light is Simmons curled up on her bed, facing away from the door. She looks to be breathing deeply, so Skye assumes that she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time Simmons had dozed off mid-evening. Experiments sometimes keep her on an odd schedule.

Opening the door just a little wider, Skye places the plate on the side table in case Simmons wakes up later and doesn’t want to walk all the way to the communal kitchen for something eat. She pauses a moment when the rhythm of her friend’s breathing falters a little, but it soon returns to a steady pace. Believing there isn’t anything she can do since Simmons seems to be sleeping deeply, Skye leaves quietly, determined to check in with her teammate the next day.

After the door closes, Simmons waits until the sound of footsteps fades away to roll onto her back, tears wetting her cheeks. Moments before Skye arrived, she had bolted upright after waking up from another frightful nightmare, but she didn’t want to worry her teammate or try to force herself to be cheerful.

She’d started to believe that she was finally free of the nightmares. Clearly, that wasn’t true, but at least this one didn’t force her to relive her experience in the pod. Then again, dreaming of Fitz dying during the scramble between Hydra and SHIELD for the Hub hadn’t been much easier to face. Still, she could at least tell herself that it wasn’t real when she woke up. It’s a small comfort, but she is willing to take anything at the moment.

Glancing at the door, she sees the sandwich, and she’s torn about whether or not to eat it. She’s really not hungry; she never is when she’s upset. Then again, she understands better than anyone in this secret base how the body works, and she knows that she isn’t doing herself any favors by failing to eat.  It’s fear in the end that drives her choice: fear of what that sandwich could mean.

In the hours since her altercation with Fitz, she’s tried to convince herself that they might still be able to salvage something if she tries hard enough to be what he needs, whatever that is. If Skye has lied about the sandwich, then Fitz really has written her off, and Simmons knows she can’t deal with that reality at the moment. She’s spent the better part of the afternoon attempting to distance herself from it.

Then again, if he really did make the sandwich, she’s not sure that she’ll feel any better. It might signify that there is still hope for them, but it also means that she’s pulling his focus away from his recovery. He’s not supposed to have to worry about her. He has enough going on without her adding to it by being too self-absorbed to realize that she’s missed dinner. She knows that he’ll feel obligated to make sure she has something to eat even if he’s upset with her; he might be a bit tetchy on most days, but he is very observant and usually one of the kindest people she knows.  

Simmons contemplates the sandwich for far longer than anyone should. Years from now she’ll laugh about the weight she placed on the decision, but in the moment it represents a tipping point she’s not ready to face. As soon as she bites into it, she’ll know whether or not Fitz made it. They’ve been preparing food for each other since their time at the Academy. He’ll make her sandwich just as she likes it no matter how irritated he might be.

So, she leaves it untouched. For all intents and purposes, that sandwich is her version of Schrödinger’s cat. As long as she never takes a bite, she never has to know which reality is true, and she’s more willing to embrace that uncertainty than she is to know the truth.

She nods off again not long after, but, exhausted though she is, she can’t seem to get the rest she needs. Tossing and turning, she sleeps restlessly, forever on the verge of entering another nightmare, her hand extended as though reaching for a source of comfort just beyond her grasp.


	3. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter serves as a kind of turning point. Fitz is finally forced confront the uncomfortable truth that he's not the only one who is still suffering from the aftereffects of nearly dying at the bottom of the sea. Unfortunately, he's still too angry to truly understand what he witnesses, and poor Jemma just keeps trying to gather her broken pieces and put herself back together.

One of the first things the team discovered during their initial weeks at the Playground was that the sprawling base had a space for nearly every kind of training an agent could need. The firing range and obstacle course were to be expected, of course. Even the simulator room, which could train an agent to operate nearly every known form of transportation, did not surprise them.

The one space that threw them off at first was the Olympic-sized swimming pool. While swimming was a required skill for all field agents, equipping a supposedly secret base with a feature that required considerable power and attention for its upkeep seemed like a waste of resources, especially given that one end of the pool reached a depth of 30 feet. Agent Koenig explained that this facility had once been used to train deep-sea rescue teams for the S.S.R. When Fury had the base remodeled, he saw no reason to remove the resource. It was still valuable for training.

While some of the team—namely May, Coulson, and Trip—use the pool to add variety to their exercise regimens, the majority of the Playground's inhabitants treat it more as a spa amenity. The SHIELD issued bathing suits are certainly not the height of fashion, but relaxing by the pool or even just floating in the water helps to relieve some of the stress of trying to rebuild SHIELD while undermining Hydra's attempts to wreak havoc.

Unsurprisingly to most, the only two agents who have yet to even dip a toe in the water are Fitz and Simmons. Despite spending countless hours swimming during their time at the Academy and Sci-Ops, neither agent has had any desire to set foot in a large body of water since their near death at the bottom of the ocean.

While Fitz does at least sit in the room, Simmons avoids it whenever possible. To date, Skye has only managed to drag her to the pool once, and Simmons would be happy to keep it that way. Unfortunately, her increasing nightmares have left her sluggish in mind and body, so she never stands a chance when Skye hauls her to the pool that afternoon.

* * *

When she enters the room, Simmons knows she had nothing to fear. She is a strong swimmer, this is a contained environment, and nearly everyone at the Playground is here. Even if she manages to end up in distress, and she can't imagine how that would happen, someone will be there to rescue her. Her racing heart and clammy palms, however, don't seem to care about rationality. Ever since she found herself struggling to the surface with a lifeless Fitz in tow, Simmons has had a strong aversion to any amount of water touching her body. She showers quickly, refusing even the thought of a bath. Her hands often shake when she washes them. The feeling of water on her skin is enough to send her into a panic. She doesn't even want to contemplate what her reaction will be if she is submerged again.

While the others understand her hesitance, they know she has been struggling since her return from Hydra despite the front of false cheer she's adopted. They hope interacting with them will boost her spirits, even if only a little. The Simmons they've seen the last several weeks is a shell of the exuberant and optimistic scientist they're used to. She has lost nearly all of the spark that was once her driving force.

At this point, they're willing to try just about anything to help her find herself again, and Simmons is not oblivious to their efforts; she just doesn't have the wherewithal to react in anything but the most basic and perfunctory ways most of the time. She's barely slept in weeks, and her appetite has been spotty as best. She's just as drained emotionally and mentally as she is physically. She knows their resources are limited, so she's trying not to take more than what she can't do without, whether for her experiments or for herself. She knows her descent into emotional chaos is coming at the worst possible time, and she doesn't want the team to suffer because she's too weak to pull herself together.

Nevertheless, she's running on fumes, and it is only a matter of time before she crashes completely. As someone who is intensely private about many aspects of her life, she hopes that she'll be alone when she finally hits bottom because she thinks asking the one person she wouldn't mind seeing her at her lowest to help her would be selfish and unfair.

Fitz has already suffered too much because of her. As much as she wants to blame Ward for everything, she knows that much of it is her fault. She wanted to stay to track the Bus. She came up with the plan to blow the window of the pod. She never even considered that they wouldn't have enough oxygen. She didn't swim fast enough. She held up his recovery. She left, and then couldn't even tell him why because she was too afraid of losing him, and now she's all but lost him and still can't bring herself to tell him. She's made him feel like he's useless. She can't be what he needs.

She's failed him in so many ways, and she doesn't want him to expend the effort he could use for his recovery tending to her. She feels ridiculous and frustrated for being so weak when he's been so strong; it isn't as though she is the one who has brain damage from their experience. No, she walked away from the incident unharmed with the exception of what she would classify as a few minor injuries.

* * *

While Skye immediately launches herself into the water, Simmons stands as far away as she can from the edge of the pool. She knows that she should try to strike up a conversation with Bobbi and Hunter, who are standing just a few feet from her, but she doesn't feel like trying to muster the strength to force cheer into her voice. As reluctant as she is to be there, she is glad to see that Fitz seems to be enjoying himself. He's perched on one of the few benches surrounding the pool, laughing as Skye and Trip gang up on Mack in an attempt to dunk him under water. They don't manage it, but Fitz thinks it's funny to see them try.

He knows immediately when Simmons enters the room. He's been attuned to her presence for years, but he waits a few moments before glancing over at her. Once he sees her, he wishes he had never looked. He barely recognizes the woman in front of him, and that upsets him in ways he can't even comprehend. Her hair is a dull, lifeless mess, her shoulders are hunched, and her skin is only a few shades above corpse-like. He can see the deep purple shadows under her eyes from halfway across the room. He can't understand what is happening to her. She's been fine for so long; why is she starting to crack now? Is this some delayed reaction to what happened when she was at Hydra?

From his perspective, she's always had a tendency to get a little peaky after stressful situations, but she's always bounced back just as quickly. Some parts of his memory after waking up from the coma are a little hazy, but what he does remember is that she seemed just as cheerful and full of life as ever when she'd interacted with him those few weeks before she left. It's clear that she isn't sure what to do with him now, but, other than a handful of instances in the last few weeks, she's seemed fine since returning from Hydra. He'd watched her smile and laugh as if she hadn't a care in the world. In fact, he found himself resenting her apparently carefree attitude more than once as he's continued to struggle just to communicate.

Though trying to ignore her, Fitz can't help but cut his eyes over to her every few minutes. She's just standing there, watching the others but making no move to join in. He understands that she doesn't want to get in the water; he doesn't either. But he's never seen Simmons actively reject interacting with people she considers her friends.

Content to stand by herself, Simmons lets her mind wander. She's too tired to think of anything of substance, so she allows her thoughts to wander to happier times. She thinks of holidays, successful projects, and late night Dr. Who marathons. Fitz features heavily in all of them, and while it pains her to think that they may never have that again, that pain is preferable to what she's been feeling lately. Completely lost to the memories, she doesn't notice the worried glances everyone is giving her or the gleam in Hunter's eyes.

* * *

Beyond her name, specialty, and their shared heritage, Hunter doesn't know much about Simmons, and he's never bothered to ask. Still trying to get over the loss of Idaho and Hartley, he hasn't made much of an effort to get close to most of the other agents. Knowing people only makes it worse when they get killed, and he has no illusions about the probability that they'll all die trying to stop Hydra. Still, for the rest of the afternoon and for weeks to come he'll wish that he had spent a little more time gathering intel about Simmons's past.

When Bobbi saunters off to join the others in the pool, Hunter glances over at Simmons. He often finds her chipper nature and unsolicited thoughtfulness to be the tiniest bit annoying, but he is more disturbed by the clearly body-snatched version of the agent standing near him now. He'd rather deal with her too wide smiles than with her lifeless eyes. So, since he's bored, he decides to take it upon himself to cheer her up. Well, he admits to himself, what he is about to do is more likely to make her angry, but at least she'll be showing some emotion. He's frankly a little excited to see what an angry Simmons is like.

Careful not to draw attention to himself, he edges out of her line of vision, not that she's paying him any mind, which is very helpful given what he's about to do. When he's far enough way to get a bit of speed, he starts jogging and then running toward her. Fitz, who had just been surreptitiously observing his former partner, is the only one who notices the movement, and he watches Hunter with a frown. He knows the older man is a bit of a jokester, and, while he's never been one to stop a good prank, he can't ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that something terrible is about to happen.

Fitz is right, and he barely has time to yell "Simmons!" when he realizes Hunter's intent before Hunter scoops her into his arms and launches them both into the deep end of the pool.

Simmons only has a second to meet Fitz's stare and see his outstretched hand before she plunges into the water and terror overwhelms her. She'd barely sucked in a breath before hitting the water, Hunter having knocked the wind out of her when he caught her by surprise. As soon as she opens her eyes, she loses all sense of reality. Instead of 30 or so feet of clear, chlorinated water, she sees 90 feet of dark, murky ocean. She doesn't register the flat that has slipped off her foot as a shoe; instead it's Fitz's lifeless body slipping into the depths. She struggles from Hunter's grasp, thrashing and kicking until he loosens his hold. She has to get to Fitz.

Realizing from her frantic movements that something has gone wrong with his plan, Hunter releases her immediately and watches in confusion as she tries to swim toward the shoe sinking to the bottom of the pool.

Breaking the surface, he gasps for breath; Simmons's foot had caught him in the abs.

"Hunter, what the hell!?" he hears Bobbi yell. "Where's Simmons?"

"Eh, she's gone after her flat. She'll be up in a minute," he chokes out. He thinks it's odd, but he knows women can be a bit daft when it comes to shoes. Bobbi certainly is.

He doesn't have a chance to say anything else before he's pushed out of the way by Mack, who had begun swimming toward their entry point since Fitz had yelled Simmons's name. Having heard all about how Fitz ended up in a coma, Mack has a feeling that Simmons isn't going to react well to being thrown in a pool. He sucks in a breath before powering under the water in search of his teammate.

Simmons knows her movements are hesitant and uncoordinated. She's terrified of the water, but all she can see is Fitz drifting away from her, and she can't bear the thought of losing him. So, despite the burning in her lungs, she fights through the water, but just as her hand is about to close around what she thinks is Fitz's wrist, something catches her by the waist and pulls her back toward the surface.

She fights the hold with everything she has left, which, after weeks of nightmares and poor eating, isn't much, but the force is stronger than she is. Realizing that she can't break free, she screams, heedless of the fact that she's submerged. As water rushes in her lungs and drives out what little oxygen remains, her panic surges ever higher. She's on the verge of passing out when her head breaks the surface and another set of arms hauls her out of the pool.

Trip can't believe how little Simmons weighs even with sopping wet clothing. He's afraid he is going to snap her arm in half when he pulls her from the pool.

Expelling the water from her lungs with painful coughs, Simmons continues to fight the arms holding her. She's still trapped in her flashback, and all she can think of is that she needs to get to Fitz. He's been under too long. She pushes against Trip, straining back toward the water, trying with what little strength remains to return for Fitz even though she's terrified.

In between coughs and ragged inhalations, she repeats his name, softly at first and then in panicked screams. Her raspy voice is the only sound in the room other than the gently lapping water.

"Fitz!" she croaks, her anguish unmistakable. "No, I have to get to Fitz!" Trip does not release her even as her agony cuts him to the core. Every member of the team watches in horror as Simmons struggles to break his hold, clearly not in her right mind.

Coulson recovers first, his own horrendous experience with flashbacks urging him into action.

"Simmons!" He calls several times in a sharp voice, hoping to catch her attention, but he knows after the first few attempts that she's too deep in the memory to hear him.

Fitz can't believe what he's seeing. He knew the water would frighten Simmons, but he never imagined she would have a reaction like this one. Based on his own interactions with her and what he's gathered from other people, she hadn't shown much emotion about the whole experience, barely tearing up when she was reunited with their teammates. Then again, no one but Fury and his team had seen her in the initial twelve hours after Fitz had set off the detonation to free them. Fitz had never once wondered what that time was like for her, and now he's beginning to understand that she's never been okay if this is what has been lurking in her subconscious the whole time.

Bruises are beginning to bloom on Simmons's arms where Trip is tying to hold her back from diving into the pool. Her breath is coming in short pants, and it's clear that she's going to pass out if she keeps up the pace. When she lets out a scream that is far too similar to the last sound Fitz heard her make at the bottom of the ocean, he finds his voice as he stumbles toward her.

"Simmons!" he calls. "Look at me, Simmons! I'm here! Look!"

He has to call her name five times before she registers his voice. She whips her head toward the sound so quickly that she feels a little dizzy. When her eyes lock on his, she stops struggling and sucks in a deep breath. When she releases the air, it comes out in a quivering stream. She's shaking from head to toe, both from the chill of sitting in wet clothes and from the residual terror and adrenaline coursing through her body.

"Fitz?" she questions, her voice raw. Shaking and pale, she fixes her amber eyes, wide with disbelief, panic, and heartache, on his face. She refuses to blink, as if he'll disappear if she closes her eyes for even a split second.

He can't speak in the face of the emotions swirling in her eyes. He just stares back, seeing a glimpse of what she's been hiding from him since he woke up. The panic and disbelief he understands. The heartbreak throws him completely. She's never even alluded to his confession in the pod, and she's certainly never admitted to returning his feelings. She left him, for pity's sake, just when he needed her most. And then he understands. She's heartbroken, he thinks, because he will never be the man he was, and that is who she wants. She doesn't want him now; she wants what he was and can't ever be again.

She knows that he's seen too much in her expression when his eyes harden a little. The slight change is enough to bring her fully back into reality. Before this whole mess, with the pod, with her, with him, he never would have looked at her that way. Whatever they were and whatever they might have had, she's ruined it, first by not saying enough and now by admitting too much too late. Already feeling as though she's been flayed open, she can't hold his gaze any longer.

Dropping her eyes to the ever-expanding puddle around her, she continues to breathe raggedly, her body shaking all the while. No one moves or speaks, and she's hyper aware of their scrutiny and the volume of her breaths. It's too much; it's all too much, and she has nothing left. No power to fight. No resolve to mask her feelings. No strength to hold herself together.

Still treading water in the pool, Mack has a front row seat to the chaos, and he watches Simmons carefully. Her response to his accusations in the garage had unsettled his perception of her, and he realizes now that he has completely misjudged her. She'd seemed so unaffected by her most recent near death experiences, especially the one that permanently damaged her so-called best friend, but he sees that her composure was only for show. She wasn't unaffected; she had just buried her anguish and fear, attempting to deal with the trauma alone. Clearly, that hadn't been working out well for her. He exhales softly when he realizes that what she and Fitz both need to heal is each other. He's just not sure that either of them will ever act on that need with so much misunderstanding between them.

It hurts to move, but Simmons can't be there anymore. With all the grace of a newborn giraffe, she hauls herself to her feet, the increasing trembles making it very difficult to keep her balance. Trip reaches out to steady her, but she brushes his hand away immediately. She walks awkwardly toward the closest door, her one shoe squelching with her steps. She hopes no one will try to stop her or speak. She's hanging on to what little remains of her composure by a thread.

Several of them think about calling out to her, but they're still struggling to understand what they've witnessed. Simmons is halfway to the door when she hears Skye's voice.

"Simmons, wait!"

Simmons stops and sighs, but she doesn't turn around. "I'll be fine, Skye," she answers, carefully modulating her voice to keep it devoid of any emotions.

"But…" Skye starts to protest.

"I said I'll be fine," Simmons forces out, clenching her teeth to repress the sobs she is desperate to unleash.

She continues walking, and she makes it to the door before Skye calls out to her one final time.

"Jemma," she entreats. Skye's tone is as soothing as she can make it, and it sounds much like she is talking to a cornered animal, which is a fairly accurate assessment of how Simmons feels in the moment.

A particularly powerful tremble rattles her body, and Simmons has to reach out to steady herself on the doorframe. Overcome with weariness, she hangs her head.

"Please, I," she starts to say before she has to suck in a deep breath to quell the desire to cry. "I just want to be alone." It's the unmistakably tearful note on the final word that quiets Skye's attempts to reach out to her friend.

Without waiting for a response, Simmons continues to shuffle down the hallway.

* * *

The room is silent for only a few more seconds before a resounding crack sounds as Bobbi slaps Hunter as soon as he's within her reach.

"What the hell were you thinking!" she demands.

Hunter just gapes at her, at a complete loss to understand what had just happened. "What? Why?" are the only words he manages to articulate.

Hearing his voice, Skye whips around, glaring at him as she bellows, "She almost drowned, you idiot! You know that Ward left FitzSimmons for dead at the bottom of the damn ocean, and she had to swim up 90 feet with Fitz unconscious to save them both. And then you go and throw her into a fucking pool!" She's screeching by the end of it.

She and Bobbi both calm down a little when they see Hunter's eyes widen and face pale. They don't know how he missed that critical piece of information, but it's obvious that he clearly didn't know the details of what Ward had done to their teammates.

"I, I, " he stammers. Simmons might be a little too chirpy most of the time for his taste, but he can't believe what he's forced her to relive. Dead set on apologizing, he starts after her, but he halts when he hears Fitz's voice.

"Don't." Fitz commands lowly. He's still reeling from the last several minutes himself, but he knows that Simmons won't want an audience. "She's means it when she says she wants to be alone."

He's confused and still hurt that she left him, angry that she can't accept him for who he is now, but he doesn't want any of them disturbing her. It had taken him years to convince her that she could cry in front of him. He knows she won't want any of them to see her tears. "She doesn't like other people seeing her…upset."

No one speaks, and the silence quickly becomes too much, but they all stay for a few more minutes, none of them sure what to do in the aftermath. Mack is the first to leave, clearly headed to the Garage. His exit prompts the rest of them to disperse quickly, though none of them leave through the exit Simmons took. Fitz remains by the pool for nearly a half hour. He can't stop staring at the puddle Simmons left. He contemplates everything he thinks he knows about them, about the pod, about what's happened since he woke up from his coma.

What he said to the team jogs his memory and gives him a little insight into Simmons's recent behavior. She really does hate being upset in front of others. She'd sent the team away when she'd nearly died from the Chitauri virus. She'd left the room after she'd stabilized Skye. What he doesn't understand is why she hasn't sought him out if she's so emotionally overwrought. She's sobbed all over him countless times over things both trivial and truly tragic. It's not any different this time.

Except that it is, he concludes. Clearly, she thinks he can't even handle that anymore. The idea that she believes he's so broken he can't even hold her as she cries burns through him. In the wake of this new source of anger and resentment, he struggles to remember that she's clearly suffering too. Still, he's tired of not knowing where he stands with her. He feels like he's left reeling every time she's around. She's hesitant and unpredictable when they interact, and it's making him feel on edge.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he admits that this situation is just like everything else in his life. He knows he has all the pieces, but he can't fit them together. In all the mess and confusion, there is only one thing he knows for sure: Simmons is a better liar than he ever gave her credit for. He thinks back on all the time, limited though it is, that they've spent together since he woke up, and he realizes that her smiles were always a little too wide and her laugh a little too high, as if she'd been forcing it.

In that moment, he's not sure what makes him angrier: that she's been lying and won't ask for help or that she won't seek him out because she doesn't think he's capable of comforting her.

"Well bollocks to that," he announces to no one.

Stiff from sitting in the same position so long, he wobbles on his feet. He's still angry with her for leaving, but she's hurting, and he'll be damned if he'll let her do it alone anymore.


	4. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter represents a turning point for Fitz, but the misunderstandings and tension between our two favorite geniuses are not over yet.

 

The trouble, Fitz realizes as soon as he takes a step toward the door, is that he doesn't know where Simmons has gone. He decides the water she's left on the floor is as good a place as any to start, so he follows the spotty trail. He's more than a little alarmed when he notices that her gate was apparently very uneven. Based on the larger puddles and the wet spots on the walls, she'd stopped several times, whether to rest or to cry he isn't sure. Guiltily he realizes that someone should have helped her, but he'd told them not to. She is probably a little shocky. He hopes he doesn't find her passed out on the floor somewhere.

He's surprised when the puddles lead him toward the communal bath. Surely, he thinks, she'll have had enough water for today. He apparently does still know her well enough to predict that. She'd come here and lingered at the entrance for several minutes, but she hadn't set foot inside of the bathroom. Thinking back to her trembling, he wishes she could have brought herself to take a warm shower. She's always complained of being cold, and he knows the unexpected soaking in the pool must have chilled her to the bone.

She clearly decided to cut her losses and just put on something dry, he concludes as he sees that the tracks continue on toward her bedroom. He's a little nervous to confront her. What if she won't talk to him? What if he stutters or loses the words? What if they can't get past this?

As he approaches her door, he listens carefully for any sounds of distress. He's surprised when he's met with only silence. He's confident that she came here, and he can't imagine that she left again. He wars with himself for a few minutes about what to do. He could open her door, but he's reluctant to do that for a variety of reasons. He could turn around, but he doesn't want to do that either. If she is there, he knows that he can offer at least some comfort, and he's not about to let her disbelief in him keep him from doing that.

It's the almost inaudible whimper that makes up his mind. He's going to comfort her and that is that.

"Simmons," he calls, "I know you're in there."

He's only a little put out when she doesn't respond. He expects her to be reluctant; she always is.

"Come on, Simmons. Open the d…door." He grits his teeth as he stutters the last word. He doesn't want to give her any reminders that he's damaged.

When she still doesn't respond, he gets a little impatient. He's not going to stand here and beg like a ninny.

When he hears her whimper again, he doesn't even bother asking. He just yanks open the door, prepared to shout at her for being daft and crying alone, but the words turn to ash in his mouth and his anger fades.

It's dark, but he can see that she's curled up in a tiny ball on her bed, tears streaming down her face even though she's clearly asleep. Simmons had succumbed to exhaustion almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She'd had too little sleep and too much shock for her system to handle. She nearly didn't make it to her room, only the sheer determination of ensuring that she was out of everyone's sight kept her going. She didn't want the team to see her like this.

Her wet clothes are strewn haphazardly about the room; she couldn't get them off fast enough. Her usually meticulously tidy closet is an absolute wreck. The shirts that are still on hangers are askew, and nearly everything that was once in her few drawers is scattered about. She had been intent on finding something and didn't care about the mess she made in the process.

When he steps a little closer, Fitz sees what she had worked so hard to find. Instead of her own pajamas, she's clad in a pair of his flannel bottoms and one of his sweaters. He'd looked for both items for several weeks, but he assumed they'd been misplaced when the team moved his things to the Playground. Now he understands that they hadn't been lost; Simmons had taken them. He's not quite sure to make of that.

He's by no means brawny, but his clothes hang off her frame anyway. She's bunched the too-long sleeves in her hands to cover her fingers, and he can see that the wool is damp from her tears.

His heart clenches as she whimpers again and he notices that she's shivering. Several pieces of her hair cling to her cheek. The rest has soaked part of her pillow. For the first time, he's thankful for her shorter hair. At least it will dry faster than her longer locks would have.

His options for helping are few, but he does know of one thing that will make her feel better. He's never been in this room, but if he knows her as well as he wants to think he does, he knows exactly where to find a blanket. He's immediately gratified to discover that she still keeps her small collection of quilts and throws in a dilapidated leather suitcase in her closet. He pulls out the one he knows to be the warmest and drapes it over her curled form.

He wants to sit on the bed and pull her into his arms, but he resists the urge. They need to talk, but he's not sure how to even begin that conversation. Once upon a time, he would have known just what to say to her, but now he's at a complete loss, not because he is afraid he won't have the words, but because he's afraid he doesn't know her anymore. She's drifted so far away, partly because of her own choices and partly because of his. How could he have missed this?

Beyond that, now that he can see the toll the day has taken on her, he doesn't have the heart to wake her. Still, he can't help himself from reaching out and brushing the hair off her face. He's done this countless times in the lab—her hair has a mind of it's own most days and she's usually up to her elbows in some kind of mess—but it never felt as intimate to him as it does now.

"You could've cried on me, Simmons," he whispers, "instead of mucking up my favorite jumper."

There is so much he doesn't know about what has happened since he tried to give up his life for her. It's an unfamiliar feeling since he can only think of a handful of days in the last ten years that they haven't been a constant presence in each other's lives, well at least before everything went to hell in a hand basket. He needs to know more about the nine days he was in a coma. He needs to know why Simmons left. He needs to know what she went through at Hydra. He needs to know it all. Maybe then some of the puzzle will start to make sense.

He takes one last look at her before leaving her to sleep, pleased to see that she's at least stopped shivering even if her lashes are still damp with tears. He breathes out a heavy sigh when he closes the door. There are so many conflicting emotions bouncing around in his head. He's distressed that she's in so much pain, but he's hurt that she left him and won't tell him why. He's hopeful that they can move past all the pain, but he's wary that she'll never see him as an equal again. He wants her, but he's terrified that she doesn't want him.

Pushing away from the wall, he heads off to find the one person he knows will tell him the truth about everything if he can just work up the courage to ask.

* * *

If May is surprised to see him, it doesn't show. She simply continues to move through her Tai chi forms at the same unhurried pace. She's knows he'll talk eventually, so she just waits him out.

"I'm here about Simmons," he finally admits.

She simply glances at him. In her mind, his statement doesn't require a response.

He knows she isn't trying to be intimidating on purpose, but he can't help but feel like a small child in her presence. Still, he needs answers, and he is confident that she has them.

"She's… It's…I need to know what happened….after I, you know. What was it like for her? I need you to tell me the truth," he says in a rush, afraid that she might try to sugarcoat it or evade the question.

"Why would I lie?" Her voice is deadly calm, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Though a little worried that he might have insulted her, he presses again. "I need to know. Something's wrong…with Simmons. So I need to know."

"So you noticed? Simmons hasn't been herself since Ward nearly took you both down," she states very matter-of-factly, never breaking her form.

He's taken aback. He knows something has been off with Simmons for the last few weeks, but May knew that something had been wrong for months? She knew Simmons wasn't well, and she let her go to undercover? She knowingly let her suffer? Did Coulson know? Did Skye? Trip? Had they all just left Simmons to deal with whatever was bothering her on her own?

"If you knew something was wrong, why haven't you helped her?" he all but seethes. He may be angry with Simmons, but he doesn't want to see her hurt.

"She doesn't want  _our_  help," May states.

Fitz files her statement away; it seems important, but he doesn't have time to think about it now. He'll worry about it later.

"What happened?" he demands, his tone biting.

May can't help but be a little bit pleased that Fitz is finally angry on Simmons's behalf instead of just angry with Simmons. She knows that his recovery has taken its toll on him, but she also knows that his growing anger and resentment since Simmons's return from Hydra have blinded him to what has been so obvious to the rest of them: Simmons is falling to pieces trying to help him feel whole.

Moving fluidly through the final form, May breathes deeply before facing Fitz squarely. She won't spare him the details; he's clearly eager and maybe even ready to know what she has to share.

"Frankly, she looked like hell. According to Fury's report, she seized a few minutes after he fished you both out of the water—he said it was the worst case of decompression sickness he'd ever seen. He kept her in a hyperbaric chamber for hours, but she couldn't escape the aftereffects or the injuries she sustained. She couldn't move without wincing for days, and she lost her balance frequently. Not that it mattered since she rarely left your side during the nine days it took you to wake up. She refused further recompression treatment. Her only concession when the doctors threatened to sedate her was a few rounds of oxygen therapy and a splint for her fractured wrist. She set her recovery back by weeks by refusing the care she needed."

She pauses briefly to allow him to absorb what she's revealed before powering on.

"She was oddly calm but barely spoke. Skye and Trip tried to get her to talk about what happened, but she wouldn't say a word to them. We only discovered the true extent of what you'd both been through because your doctors pressed her for more information to plan your treatment. She spent every waking moment at your side gathering any piece of information she could on hypoxia and brain damage even though reading exacerbated her condition. Coulson and I finally had to drug her tea to force her to sleep. Toward the end of your coma, you looked better than she did. To my knowledge, no one ever saw her cry. She just sat there like a zombie until you woke up. I don't know what she would have done if you hadn't."

He's reeling. He can't remember ever hearing May speak so much at one time, and what she's telling him devastates him. He vaguely remembers coming out of the coma: the panic of not being able to speak overwhelming until he saw Simmons and found some comfort knowing that she was alive and with him. He strains his brain trying to recall what she looked like in that moment, and he blanches when he realizes it's much the same as she had looked standing by the pool—sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and sallow skin.

May knows that he's struggling to accept what she's telling him, but he needs to understand the whole sequence of events.

"She seemed to improve once you were back. She watched Ward without a single complaint or sign of distress, and we thought the worst was over, but then she started to withdraw again and none of us could figure out why. Even though she passed her psych eval., we thought it was probable that she was suffering from PTSD. Coulson arranged for a therapist to speak with her, but she refused, claiming she was fine. After three failed appointments, we had her tested again. It surprised all of us when she still passed. We couldn't prove that she was unstable, so we let her be. We decided to wait for her to talk about what happened when she was ready, but I'm not sure that she ever has."

Fitz thinks about what May said about Simmons not wanting their help, and he feels like he might fill in one of the gaps he's missing if she'll just give him a minute, but she keeps talking.

"When Coulson announced his idea of infiltrating Hydra, Simmons volunteered almost immediately. Given what she'd been through, we were hesitant to send her in, but it was the first thing she showed any interest in other than you since we returned from taking out Garrett. Beyond that, she was clearly the most qualified agent, and we knew that she could succeed."

May decides in the moment not to disclose Simmons's assertion that Fitz would recover more quickly if she weren't there. That isn't her truth to reveal.

Fitz finally speaks then, "If you thought something was wrong, you shouldn't have let her go."

You should have made her stay with me, he thinks.

"We had Agent Morse keep an eye on her, and Coulson checked in a few times during the op. From the reports they handed in, we know that Simmons spent most of her time running tests on samples from gifteds, but they moved her to the development labs just before her cover was blown. What she worked on there is classified. When Reina compromised her position, Simmons nearly didn't make it out alive. The rest you should know."

With nothing more to share, she turns to leave the room and give him time to process what she's said.

"But why did she want to go?" Fitz implores. It's the final piece of the puzzle, and he knows nothing will make sense until he knows why she left. "Something must have happened here! What was it? "

"That's a question only Simmons can answer," May replies pointedly before striding out of the room.

Fitz wrestles with his thoughts for hours before coming to an uncomfortable realization. Simmons had been waiting for him. She hadn't sought him out because she never did. He'd gone to her after her grandfather had died when they were at Sci-Ops. He'd gone to her when the Chitauri virus had almost killed her. He'd gone to her after she'd stabilized Skye.

He'd always gone to her. Only this time he hadn't. Before she left to work for Hydra, he couldn't have helped her even if he wanted to. He was too focused on his own slow recovery, and Simmons needed someone who could talk back; he couldn't then, at least not in any way that would have been helpful. Since her return, he'd shut her out as much as he could and refused to listen when she's tried to talk, not realizing that she's just as damaged as she seems to think he is. She abandoned him, but, he finally admits to himself, he's also abandoned her.

His dawning awareness of just how screwed up this whole situation is leaves him with a raging headache. Even if Simmons is awake, he's in no shape to hash out the last several months with her tonight, so he falls wearily into bed, sleeping fitfully as memories, both good and unpleasant, play through his mind.


	5. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pacing of this chapter may seem a little strange. It follows the plot lines of episodes 8, 9, and 10 of season 2, so it may seem to jump ahead pretty quickly at times. I wanted to make sure that the arc of this story matched up as much as I could to the show, so I focused on the scenes featuring Fitz and Simmons to mesh what is happening in the show with the plot lines I've created in this fic. This is the last chapter where Fitz and Simmons are at odds. We'll finally see some things resolved in the next chapter.

Simmons spends the next week avoiding everyone, especially Fitz, as much as she can. She refuses to acknowledge, much less discuss, that something significant happened at the pool. She's tucked it away in the corner of her mind where she's banished all the unpleasant and painful memories of the past year.

As for Fitz, she can see that she's hindering his recovery again, so she pulls away, telling herself that his wellbeing is what matters most. She'd hurt him again during the disaster at the pool, and she's irritated with herself because of it. She spent a few days rebuilding her emotional armor, and, though it's damaged, it's helping her hold herself together for now. She plasters on a smile at will and forces so much cheer and optimism in her voice that she almost believes herself in some moments, but the weight of burying her feelings isn't easy to manage.

Still, they have a job to do, and she'd rather suffer in silence than pull any focus away from it again. She'll deal with her issues once they save the world. With the impending threat of Hydra discovering the entrance to the city before SHIELD can, the team has to put their concern for the young scientist aside for the moment. Simmons is thankful for the distraction, though she wishes it didn't have potentially world-changing consequences.

Fitz is beside himself. He wants to confront Simmons, but he has to practice for his first mission back in the field and she's suddenly all but invisible. He catches glimpses of her here and there. The longest he's seen her is at their debriefings in Coulson's office, but she always manages to sneak in just as Coulson starts talking and to leave as soon as he's done. Fitz has even tried lingering outside her bedroom in the morning and evenings, trying to catch her leaving or returning, but he never does. It's clear that she doesn't want to talk to him. He wants to help her, but he can't, and it's frustrating him to no end. He decides she must be avoiding him on purpose.

For all she's pretending, she's clearly not getting any better; if anything, she's getting worse. He's taken to watching her closely when she's in one place long enough for him to do so. He's knows all the little ways she tries to cope with stress. He's spent too many years with her not to know the signs of her anxiety. He knows the others have noticed the bags under her eyes and the weight she's lost. Those are the easy signs to spot.

He's more worried about the ones that they might not recognize as a sign that she's not coping at all. She's biting her nails again, a habit he thought she'd outgrown at the Academy. She's also started to drink coffee instead of tea, a clear indication that she's sleeping even more poorly than before, and she's forever snatching at her clothing, adjusting and readjusting it compulsively. At the most recent debriefing, he notices her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, a new coping mechanism she's developed now that her hair is too short to twirl around her finger.

He had hoped that something else was bothering her, something he could fix, but he gets all the confirmation he needs that he really is the major source of her distress when she catches his gaze in a meeting after he's stuttered through an explanation and she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.

He decides that his very presence makes her anxious, which explains why she's been so determined to avoid him. Every time she is near him, it must remind her of what he isn't, and that's hurting her. Fearing what will happen if he keeps pressing, he decides that he won't force himself on her. They both know that he's never going to be the man he was, and he's just making her more upset by trying to confront her. He's hurt that she won't look past the damage to see that he can still be there for her, but he tries to accept it for her sake. It pains him to pull away from her, but it's what she clearly wants, so he will.

Struggling with his feelings of hurt and loss, Fitz does his best not to snap at Mack when he tells him that he needs to talk to Simmons. He's tried, for pity's sake, and he's only made things worse.

* * *

 

Unaware of Fitz's attempts to reach out to her or his erroneous conclusions, Simmons busies herself with work until she doesn't have room to think of anything else. She's successful in avoiding thoughts about everything she's lost in recent months until Bobbi confronts her as she's looking for the DWARFs. The conversation is difficult to say the least, but she's too strung out to keep her thoughts to herself anymore. It's the first time she's admitted some parts of her experience to another person, namely that Fitz is or at least was in love with her, and that is as freeing as it is terrifying.

She thinks about Bobbi's words and her own once Bobbi leaves. Her problem has never been with what happened to Fitz, not really. Her problem is exactly what she says; she's never been able to process it, any of it: not their almost demise, not his confession, not her feelings about what he said, not the aftermath. She doesn't know what to make of any of it. For the better part of the last decade, they've always worked out their difficult problems together, but she thinks it would be unfair to ask him to help her this time. He shouldn't have to worry about her, and he certainly shouldn't have to help her struggle to name what she feels for him when it might not be what he hopes for.

But for all that, what she still wants and needs more than anything is her best friend back. She  _can't_  imagine her life without Fitz in it. She already had to imagine it for nine agonizing days, and she knows that he means too much for her for her to give up on them. She'll keep fighting for him, even if it means sacrificing herself in the process. Then again, maybe Bobbi is right. Maybe what she needs to do is be honest with him about what she's been feeling, about her confusion. Maybe it's selfish to ask him to carry her emotional baggage, but she can't keep going like this. They very well might die today, and there are things she needs to tell them in case she never has another chance.

* * *

 

When Mack finds himself alone with Fitz and Simmons in the cargo bay of the quinjet as they prepare to leave for the City, he seizes the opportunity to force them to confront their issues. He knows that they can find themselves again if they'll just be honest and listen to each other. As Mack leaves him with Simmons, Fitz decides they need to have serious conversation about meddling in other people's affairs. Mack is only making things between him and Simmons worse.

Without the older mechanic as a buffer, Fitz tries to give Simmons an easy out by telling her that she can run the science division without him. But she talks over him, rushing her words in a desperate attempt to tell him why she left and have him understand. In Fitz's mind, her quick reassurance sounds strained and insincere. So he gives her what he thinks she wants, a life free of him unless she doesn't have a choice but to call on him for whatever is left of his skills.

He doesn't understand why she's so upset by his plan. She's avoided him like the plague for the last week because he upsets her, and now she's acting like he's pulled the rug out from under her when he tries to give her what she wants. He feels his frustration peaks when she asks "But why?" It's as if she is being obtuse on purpose to force him to verbalize something he'd rather leave unsaid.

In reality, she's completely caught off guard by his announcement. She knew that they were a long way from being friends again, but she had started to hope that they could be, that he wanted them to be based on the looks she's caught him giving her in the last week. It seemed like giving him space was working, but now it's clear that she was wrong again.

"You know why," he accuses.

When he hears her respond with phrases that sound like the platitudes that have frustrated him for months, he loses what little patience and composure he has and lashes out. It kills him to admit to her that he's still broken. It was hard enough admitting that he was different weeks ago, but he does it again because he thinks that is what she wants to hear. He's broken, and she's broken, and he clearly isn't what she needs to get better.

"I can work for you; I just can't work with you," he tells her, hoping that she'll understand that he wants be there for her if she needs him, but he won't subject her to his presence all the time. Her actions over the last week have made it plain to him that she doesn't want him around.

"I think that's what's best," he manages to struggle out before leaving her in the cargo bay. He can't even bear to look at her, to see her disappointment. He wanted to fix them, but he can never be whom he was again, and, in his mind, that is the only thing that will make her happy.

Simmons feels like the fragile hope that had been holding her up since her conversation with Bobbi has shattered and left her scrambling to find her footing. She's waited too long and done too much damage; it's too late now to do anything but gather up her broken pieces and do her best to put herself back together again. In that moment, she realizes that she'll never be whole again without him, and she weeps bitterly for what she's lost.

* * *

 

Even though she's heartbroken, they have a job to do, and she pours every bit of herself into it. She masks her pain so as not to upset Fitz more than she already has. Pulling on every last reserve of energy, she forces a sense of normalcy into her voice. She's determined not to make their interactions anymore awkward and strained than they already are.

Once they create an entrance into the City, she's thankful that the rest of the team is there to provide some sense of distraction. She can see that Fitz is nervous, and she can't help but offer to assist him. She briefly wonders if she should be worried about her sanity. She keeps trying the same tactics over and over again expecting that there will be a different result at some point, but there never is. Just like all the other times, he rejects her help, so she steps back and lets him work. She knows that he is capable. She knows that he can do this without her. He's always been able to do things without her. That being said, they've never preferred to work alone since they became partners. Well, at least not until recently.

He looks to everyone else when he fumbles for words until he finally has no choice but to turn to her. She's relieved that she finds the words he needs on the first try, but she's not sure what to make of the look he gives after they've finished their spluttered explanation. She wants to think that he appreciated her help, but she is wary to latch on to that small hope. She's probably just misreading the situation again. Still, she quirks her lips in a half smile, hoping for the best.

It's only moments later that the chaos they've feared starts to unfold. Mack has turned on them for reasons she can't understand. Bobbi is holding her own at first, but then the ICERs don't work, and Simmons doesn't know what to do. When Mack knocks Coulson to the side again, she knows that she has to try something so she swings the DWARF case at Mack as hard as she can. He flicks it and her away as if she's nothing more than an insect. She swears she feels her heart stop when she starts to fall into the pit. It only starts thumping wildly again when Coulson catches her leg to keep her from plummeting to her death.

Fitz feels like his heart is going to explode. He's too far away to catch Simmons, and his whole world narrows to the sound of her scream until he realizes that Coulson has caught her. Then, he refocuses his attention on Mack. He pleads with his friend; he really doesn't want to shoot him. Between Simmons screaming and Coulson yelling, he can barely hold the gun steady. He's just about to pull the trigger when Bobbi appears behind Mack and electrocutes him with her batons.

Fitz only has a split second to be thankful that he doesn't have to shoot his friend. Then, they all watch in horror as Mack collapses and disappears into the darkness of the pit. Completely unconsciously, Fitz immediately reaches for Simmons. He rests his hand on her leg, needing the physical support her body provides and the assurance that she is still alive and with him. She's too stunned to even notice that it is Fitz's hand instead of Coulson's grounding her.

They all stare at Coulson in disbelief when he tells them to seal the tunnel. Simmons remains silent as Bobbi and Fitz protest loudly and repeatedly. Finally, Coulson voices the order in a tone that leaves no room for further argument. They seal the tunnel quickly and regroup.

* * *

 

They're still shaken when the Bus returns. Simmons feels almost numb after the experience, and she thinks she can't begin to imagine how Fitz is feeling. Actually, she pauses for a moment, she can. She's been exactly where he is now. She knows what it is like to think someone may never come back. She knows what it is like to cling to a fragile hope that the person might make it in the end. Armed with that knowledge, she is determined to bolster Fitz's hope so that they can figure out how to save Mack.

He fights her optimism at first, thinking she is just trying to placate him, but she won't let him give up. She reminds him that the alien technology in play might actually give them more options, and she's pleased when he concedes to her point. The quiet apology he tacks on to the end makes them both a little uncomfortable.

When he mentions self-defense, she tries to redirect him, having misunderstood his point completely. She doesn't have much time to process her misstep because he's still talking. Immediately, she latches on to the idea he's sharing and starts thinking through the possibilities. When she hears the resignation in his voice, she redoubles her efforts to make him understand that there is still hope for Mack.

She knows the moment she convinces him that the City might just be using Mack, and she can't help but revel in the feeling that for this brief period of time they are FitzSimmons again. The conversation is a little stilted and hesitant, but it's clear that they're operating like two parts of the same brain once more. He knows what she's saying before the half words have left her mouth.

Of course, the moment won't last. The damage to their friendship is too severe, and he's made it clear that he'd prefer to work with Mack than her. So, she'll do whatever she can to save Mack if he can be saved. She thinks that maybe if she can help Fitz save his friend he'll be willing to give her another chance. Maybe they won't be FitzSimmons again, but maybe they can be friends as Fitz and Simmons. With that small possibility before her, she throws herself into their work, determined to stay positive and focused.

They fire ideas back and forth, pulling up the little data they managed to gather before the DRAWFs shorted out. They reject some plans almost as soon as they conceive of them. In the end, they think their best option is to wear protective suits. If the City can't sense the presence of something foreign—namely a human—it shouldn't attack them. At least that is the chance they are willing to take if it means they can rescue Mack and destroy the temple.

The conversation, though cheering in some ways, makes Fitz even more reluctant to spend any amount of time with Simmons. He's barely stuttered, and he can see her growing excitement. For now, they're FitzSimmons again, but he knows it won't last. He'll be back to stumbling and losing words, and she'll be disappointed he isn't the man he was anymore. He feels even more confident in his decision to move to the Garage after this is all over. He can't stand the idea that he is going to be a constant source of disappointment for her.

* * *

 

They're all a little wary as they enter the City. Simmons remembers what Mack said about the darkness more than the height bothering him and she can't help but agree. The dark is oppressive and menacing. Her hope that they'll be able to find and rescue Mack dwindles quickly as she realizes just how large the City is and how little time they have.

When Fitz suggests splitting up, she immediately rejects the idea. She doesn't want to be separated from him. He could get lost in the tunnels. He could be injured. He could run into Mack and have no back up. The possibilities run rampant in her head.

When he asks her to trust him, she knows that all her protestations will fall on deaf ears. As much as she loathes admitting it, they are running short on time, and they have a better chance of succeeding if they do split up. She'll waste time arguing with him, and he's stubborn enough to go even if he doesn't have time to set the explosives. Still, she can't help calling his name with a hint of both exasperation and amusement when he starts walking in the wrong direction. It's so typically Fitz that it reminds her of a hundred other times something similar has happened.

When she sees him again, she's so giddy with relief that he's in one piece that she makes some quip about the time and places her hand on his back.

When Fitz mentions Mack, she admits, "I can't think about it. It's too sad." She wishes that they had found him, but she never saw a trace of him.

Above everything else, she feels wretched for Fitz. After this, there will be no hope for his friend, and she knows Fitz will believe that it's his fault Mack has died. She also feels sorry for Mack. He'd been there for Fitz when she couldn't be, and he's a valuable member of the team. Now, even if he is alive, he won't survive the explosion. A small part of her is also a little sad for them. Finding and saving Mack might have helped them mend some small part of their relationship. She feels horribly guilty and selfish that she is even having those thoughts when Mack might be about to die, but she can't help it.

She hardly has any time to feel angry with herself before May explains that Skye and Coulson are down in City and Trip repels back into the opening. She and Fitz both yell after him, but they know it will be of no use. They stare at each other for a moment, dumbfounded about what to do. Then, they lose themselves to a flurry of movement. Fitz is grabbing the tablet, trying to track Trip, and Simmons is calling May, trying to determine where Coulson and Skye might be. They only pause again when they hear the deafening sound of something shattering. The world is still for a brief moment, and then it begins to shake violently.

Fitz grabs Simmons immediately as the ground shudders and the walls begin to crumble, pulling her close as if he can shield her from harm through that action alone. Simmons leans into him scared that this will be their last moment together and she'll never be able to tell him all the things she needs to. In this moment, there are so many things she regrets.

They huddle together as the quaking continues, and both are surprised to find that they are still standing and uninjured minutes later when the earth shakes one final time before settling into stillness.

He releases her slowly, as if he's just become aware of how closely he's been holding her. She stares at him for a moment, and he can only look back for a few seconds before the intensity of the gaze overwhelms him. His eyes shift to her left and the moment is broken.

Her mouth feels like a desert, and she only manages to croak out his name, about to reveal everything, when her phone pierces the eerie quiet that has fallen over the room. Once she answers May, she loses all sense of time and self. The next several days whirl by, and by the time they are over she feels more lost than ever before.

* * *


	6. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, it's the moment we've all been waiting for: FitzSimmons finally hash out their issues, but there is a bit more angst before that happens in this chapter. Since we're now past what we know happened in episode 10 of season 2, I tried to give a little background at the beginning of this chapter. It's still pretty short though because I wanted to focus on Fitz and Jemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is also one more chapter after this one; it's not very long, but the story just didn't feel complete without it. I'll post it later in the week.

 

* * *

 

Trip's untimely death leaves a shroud of grief and regret over the team. They spend several days working out of the Bus in San Juan before returning to the Playground. Though she has been largely catatonic since the incident, Skye does manage to string enough coherent phrases together to explain what she knows to Coulson. Left with more questions than answers, Coulson turns to Simmons to make sense of Skye's account.

An extensive round of testing on the ash Hunter retrieves from the temple confirms what everyone fears: Trip had succumbed to the effects of the obelisk, and Skye's new abilities had reduced what remained of him to dust. Simmons doesn't cry when she relates the results to the team. Her voice remains completely devoid of emotion, as if she is sharing nothing more important than what she had for lunch. At first, she's numb to everything, and then she feels so much she doesn't have the words to express it, so she shoves it aside until she does. It feels just like the days she spent waiting for Fitz to wake up from his coma.

Too caught up in their grief, the rest of the team doesn't notice Simmons wandering around in a daze. She works steadily, answering questions when asked and completing projects and assignments with the same level of ease and efficiency she always has. She patches up all their various injuries, professional and considerate as ever. On the outside, she simply looks a little distant and detached. On the inside, her mind is torturing her with memories of every time she's failed someone on a never-ending loop.

The daze finally breaks on their third day back at the Playground when her brain reminds her again in stunning detail of all the distress and pain she's caused Fitz. The mug of tea she's been holding slips from her trembling fingers and shatters on the unforgiving surface of the lab's floor.

For the first moment, all Simmons can do is stare in shock at the pieces of porcelain and the puddle of lukewarm tea at her feet. When she realizes exactly which mug she has just destroyed with her carelessness, she loses it. Falling to her knees, she keens as she snatches up the broken pieces, heedless of the damage she is doing to her hands. All she can do for the next ten minutes is sob as she completely lets go of the emotions she has tried to keep locked up for months. She doesn't try to curb the onslaught or shove them back in a box as she has in the past. Instead, she lets the waves of terror, pain, guilt, frustration, and remorse wholly consume her. Rather than of serving as some sort of catharsis, the release spurs her into a state of almost violent agitation.

Still choking on her tears, she gives into her manic need to try to fix what she's broken. She can only think of one thing—fix this, fix this, fix this—so she scrambles to gather the last pieces from the ground and place them at the nearest workstation. She whirls around the room in a frenzy, grabbing tools and materials haphazardly before returning to the shattered remains of the mug.

With a level of precision that should not be possible given how much her hands are shaking, she selects the largest shard and secures just above the table with a clamp. She considers the selection of adhesives she's gathered for a few seconds before realizing that none of the bonding agents will be effective on such a porous material. She nearly gives into despair before she resolves to concoct what she needs. If she were in her right mind, she would never attempt to mix chemicals given her level of distress, but she isn't in her right mind, so she mixes away without a single thought for her safety.

Luckily, even on the verge of a complete breakdown, she is more competent in the lab than most people. Within minutes, she has created a workable adhesive. After applying a thin layer to the clamped segment, she selects one shard and attempts to fit it back in place. She fails miserably. Her tears blur her vision, and her hands shake so hard that she can't line up the edges correctly. The failure merely increases her agitation, so she continues trying to repair the mug even though it's clear that she never will in her current state.

* * *

Trying to cope with Trip's death while helping a clearly traumatized Mack has left Fitz with barely enough mental capacity to function, much less to worry about Simmons. He feels honor-bound to help Mack find some kind of equilibrium because Mack had done the same for him. He does his best to distract Mack with small projects, but he's running out of things they can tinker with or fix.

He knows that he should go speak with Simmons. He's barely seen her since they returned to the Playground, but he finds a variety of excuses not to seek her out, each weaker than the last. Their interactions since finding the City have left him even more confused. He is surprised that she isn't more visibly upset when she confirms how Trip died until he reminds himself that she's been very guarded about her emotions since she returned from Hydra. He wonders if she even remembers how to lean on other people anymore.

When he makes his way toward the lab, he isn't looking for her. In fact, he hopes that she won't be there. He's still determined to move to the Garage, and he doesn't want to fight with her about it. He doesn't have the energy right now. All he wants is to find the prototype he'd been working on before he'd returned to the field. He can't find it anywhere else in the Playground or on the Bus, so he assumes it is in the lab.

He nearly turns around when he sees her sitting at one of the workstations, but her low, agitated muttering freezes him in his tracks.

"It's your fault, and you have to fix this," her breath hitches so hard he knows it must be painful, but she continues on. "You have to fix this. He deserves so much better. It's just like the damned Chitauri virus. You were stupid enough to get yourself into this mess, so you have to fix this."

He can't see what she is trying to repair, and he can't understand why she is obviously so frustrated with herself. He wants to offer his help, but because of all the stress he's been having more trouble with his hands in the last few days. He's reluctant to remind her how broken he is.

He focuses back on her when her muttering turns even harsher.

"You have to fix this. You broke it.  _You_  broke it. You  _BROKE_  it. It's your fault. You should have been paying attention. You should have reacted faster. Why didn't you think of a new plan?"

Listening carefully, Fitz begins to realize that Simmons is no longer talking about what she is so desperately trying to fix. She's muttering about what happened to them. As her rant continues, she confirms what he has only just started to realize and fear.

"Why couldn't you swim faster? He nearly lost his life for you and this is how you repay him. You are such a disappointment, Jemma Simmons. Why are you so bloody useless?"

Once she mutters the last statement, Simmons gives up trying to fix the mug, and just lets the pieces fall back to the table. She finally hunches over and buries her face in her hands, which are littered with cuts from the shattered porcelain. Her shoulders heave and she gives into sobbing once more.

Fitz is floored. All this time, all these months, she's been blaming herself for what happened to them. It's not him she's disappointed in; it's herself. She's held this inside, let it gnaw at her, truly believing that it's her fault. He wonders what she would have told him in the hanger of the quinjet if he'd let her explain. Would she have confessed her apparent guilt? Is that why she abandoned him?

When he finally dares to creep closer, his heart clenches when he catches sight of what she has been trying so hard to repair. He knows that mug. He'd been the one to buy it for her back in their Academy days. The mug itself isn't really anything special. It's just a simple white porcelain mug with a black letter on either side: and F and an S. What it represents, however, is so much more.

He'd bought it for her as more of a joke than anything the day that Professor Hall had first called them FitzSimmons. He'd laughed when he'd given it to her, saying that since Hall had decided they were basically one person, they might as well just have the one mug between them. She'd snickered in return, and he can still remember what she said all these years later.

"Oh, so I suppose you're finally willing to learn to make your tea the proper way then? Goodness knows I am not going to drink that sugary concoction you so blasphemously call tea."

The smile that forms from the memory quickly turns into a grimace when he sees her shoulders heave as she sobs. Still, he can't help but feel a little bit of hope from her reaction to the mug. It's broken, but it's so important to her that she feels she has to fix it. He's questioned it in recent months more than he would like, but he wants to believe that he's important enough to her that she'll want to fix him too. He wonders if that is what she thinks she's been doing all along.

Her distress cuts through him. He was too blinded by his anger to confront her before, but he can't let this continue. He's still upset with her, but he never wants to see her like this: like her world has ended and she doesn't know which way is up.

* * *

Cautiously, Fitz creeps up behind her, not wanting to startle her and not sure what to say once he gets her attention. She is too lost in her sorrow to hear him approach. He's nervous that he'll stutter or lose the words, so he decides to place his right hand on her shoulder. Before it all, before the pod, before the weeks of awkward, stilted half conversations, she would have just placed her hand on top of his and continued on.

This time she startles violently and swings around to stand, cutting a slash along her left palm as she catches her hand on the edge of the shard held in the clamp. He watches in anguish as she valiantly tries to hide her physical and emotional pain from him. She swipes at her tears with her right hand, knowing that her efforts are in vain.

"Oh, Fitz. Hello." She plasters on a fake smile so brittle he wonders if she will break into pieces in front of him like the mug.

"Can I...do you...is there something I can help you with?" She winces as the word "help" escapes her mouth before she can stop it. Trying to compensate for her faux pas, she forces her grin even wider as she clutches her bleeding hand to her chest.

"I was just," she starts. "Well, it doesn't matter. What brings you here?"

"Simmons, we need..." He starts to answer her, but she responds before he can finish the thought.

"You and Mack we're working on the quinjet earlier, right? How are the modifications…" The words tumble out of her mouth as quickly as the water rushed in the pod, and once her traitorous brain supplies that remarkably unhelpful imagery she can't stop talking.

"Simmons, just…wait." He tries a little louder, attempting to make eye contact as she studiously looks just over his right shoulder. She just continues to babble on, not even sure what she is saying. It's a tragic parody of their previous free flowing conversations.

"…coming along? I know Coulson is so pleased that you're implementing your designs. Bobbi was just telling me the other day about how you solved the problem with the cooling lines. But of course…"

"Sim…"

"…everyone knows that you're…"

"Simmons!" Fitz finally resorts to shouting at her.

"…brilliant," her last word bleeds out, fading at the end as her breath hitches again, a clear sign that she is losing her tentative hold on herself. She doesn't even try to pretend to look at him. She just drops her gaze at the floor, taking in the sight of his worn chucks and noticing, not for the first time, just how much has changed. Even their wardrobes used to be in sync. Now she looks as out of place as she feels.

"Simmons," Fitz sighs. "Let me see your hand."

He knows that she would fight him even if they were at their best, but he doesn't expect for her to swing her hand behind her back and lie.

"Oh, Fitz. It's nothing, just a scratch really. I don't need tending." They are too emotionally drained to recognize or appreciate the sense of déjà vu this moment should bring.

Words tumble out of Fitz's mouth before he can register them, and he regrets them almost immediately.

"I thought you'd gotten better at lying by now, what with all that 'oh I'm just going to pop in on mum and dad except I'm really going to work for Hydra' nonsense," he mocks her using the falsetto he knows she hates before returning to his natural range. "But what would I know?"

He's tired of her lying and hiding things from him, and he can't control the frustration as it bubbles over. He wants to fix whatever is wrong with them, but he can't seem to get a hold on the anger that he's had for her since she left him.

She tries, oh how she tries, to keep the sting of his words from showing on her face, but, as is par for the course for her life recently, she fails miserably.

He watches, dismayed, as her chin quivers and her eyes fill with tears. It's the third time in the last several weeks that he's been the cause of her tears, and he feels guilty and completely inept at dealing with it.

She opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a half strangled sob.

"It's just…you don't need…I can…it's fine really" she attempts to say, but most of the words are incomprehensible due to the strain of the repressed sobs in her throat.

Though worried, his temper is already on a short fuse, so he yells the one thing they have both wanted to say since she woke up in the pod at the bottom of the ocean floor.

"It's not fine. You're not fine. I'm not fine. None of this is fine!" He thinks the silence that follows his outburst might just consume them both as it lingers on.

"I know," Simmons eventually agrees, her voice so quiet he almost misses it. "I know that it's not fine, but I can't fix it. I've tried, but I don't know how, Fitz."

He doesn't know either, but he's going to try at least because she's not in any condition to make the effort, and he's refused her past attempts so many times that he is afraid she might not try again. It's just like the Chitauri virus and every other problem they've faced. Neither of them had been able to find the solution alone. They only fixed the problem when they worked together.

"Let's start with something small, yeah? Stop being daft and give me your hand. You've cut yourself to...to…well you've made a mess of it."

He can see that she is conflicted. She doesn't want to refuse him anything, but she also doesn't want him to see her hand. Unwilling to just stand there and stare as the blood begins to drip from the bottom of her fist, he reaches out and pulls it toward him. They're both surprised that she doesn't resist.

"It's not too bad, I think. Good for you since I can't…sti…sich….sew to save my life." He says it in a half-hearted attempt to get her to smile or laugh, but he knows that he's missed the mark by a wide margin when it makes a single tear fall from her eyes.

He leads her to one of the sinks in the lab, making no comment when her trembling becomes more noticeable once her hand is under the running water. Once he's cleaned it thoroughly, careful not to press too hard or move too quickly, he realizes that while the cut had looked severe it is really quite superficial. He's thankful since he wasn't joking about being completely inept at sewing anything, especially now that his fine motor skills are questionable. He places a plaster over the cut to help ward off infection.

Just to be thorough, he washes and examines her other hand. She's covered in scrapes, but it's no worse than he's seen her hands after hours in the lab on several other occasions.

She can't think of anything to say, so she watches his ministrations quietly. He's just as careful and tender as he has always been when seeing to her injuries. Her tears threaten to fall again as she remembers time after time that he's patched her up. She can't help but wonder if this will be the final time he does.

Oblivious that his thoughts almost mirror hers, Fitz also thinks about all the times he's done this for her, and how it never felt as important or meaningful as it does now. He isn't just fixing her hand; from his perspective, this is his first successful attempt to address the gaping wound that has become their friendship.

Ever aware of him, Simmons notices when he finishes but doesn't drop her hand immediately. His expression is inscrutable, and she convinces herself that he's trying to think of a kind or at least not entirely biting way to dismiss her, so she does what she's done since Fitz woke up from his coma; she does what she thinks Fitz needs.

"I, uh, thank you. I'll just..." She starts to pull away even though she really wants to stay there with her hand in his. She still has tears in her eyes, but she forces herself to let go.

He finally notices her retreat as her fingers slip from his. And in that moment, it's far too reminiscent of the last time they were really FitzSimmons. He can't let this go on anymore. It's clear that she misses him. He misses her too; he's been missing her the whole damn time, and she's here now, so why does he feel like they're still so far apart even when she is right in front of him?

"Jemma." It's the first time he's said her name like that since he woke up: part exasperation, part fondness, part impatience. It's so familiar and yet now so foreign that she stops moving. Once upon a time, she would have responded in kind, but now she can't even seem to form words, much less say them.

Seeing that she's no closer to responding than before, he pulls her into a firm embrace with her wounded hand pressed between them. He'd intended for it to be light enough for her to escape if she really didn't want it, but as soon as she is in his arms, he can't bring himself to let her go again. Only then does he realize the true toll this rift has taken on her. He'd been too distracted when Skye's powers had nearly brought down the City to notice before.

She's lost weight; anyone with half a brain would have noticed, but he didn't realize how much her clothes were hiding. She's always been slight, but he can feel the side of her ribs against his forearms and her spine against his hand. The bones are far too pronounced and he wonders when she last ate a decent meal.

Simmons stiffens at first, convinced that he being selfless again and that he doesn't really want this, but her resolve fades quickly. With his arms bracketing her body, she finally feels like she can really breathe for the first time since the water rushed in on them. She had convinced herself that his embrace as the world crumbled around them above the City was just instinct. Four legs were more stable than two. This time, she knows his hold is intentional. They aren't in danger. They aren't about to die. He really wants her in his arms. Unable to pull herself away, she burrows into his shoulder, finding the same spot she has always sought out when she is upset.

Now it's Fitz's turn to be unsure. He thought for sure she'd start crying again as soon as she hugged back, but when he glances down there is an almost peaceful expression on her face. She's finally calm, but he knows Simmons, even with all the hurt and raw feelings between them. Despite her apparent composure, she still has a lot of pent up emotions to release. He knows he is just going to have to wait her out, so he lets his cheek rest atop her head. It's a position they've occupied more times than he can count since they met as teenagers.

For the first time since she returned from Hydra, Fitz feels completely in his element around her. There is no need for words here. The words were just for other people, and he wonders how the hell he ever forgot that. He and Simmons could have whole conversations with just glances, gestures, and touches. She didn't need his words. She needed him. She resorted to a fecking sweater, he mentally berates himself, because he was too much of an arse to confront her. She'd needed him and he hadn't been there. She'd always needed him just as he'd needed her.

As his thoughts turn to a darker place, he moves to release her. He needs to know why she left. He can't just keep wondering. It's been a constant source of poison between them for months.

* * *

When the pressure releases on her back, Simmons panics. The last time they had embraced like this and he'd let go she didn't know whether or not she'd ever see him alive again. She can't let him go this time. Even if it is best for him, even if it's what he wants. She can't. It wasn't best before. It was wrong, so wrong, and she won't have it. She can't survive it again. And that's all she's done: barely survive.

His hands have only just left her back when he feels her press closer and start to tremble. She's actively clutching the fabric of his shirt in her hands, pressing so hard he worries about further injuries. In the moment, she can't separate past from present. The flashback takes her so quickly she has no time to steel herself against it. It's not her first or the worst, but she's the most vulnerable and drained she has ever been. In an instant, she is back in the moment when everything went wrong, when her world shattered and she struggled and failed to make some kind of sense of the aftermath.

It takes him only a moment to realize that she's not really there; she's back in the pod, and he can't stand for her to be there, even if only in her mind.

Just like that day in the water, she clutches him to her and moans out "no" after "no". Fitz is hard-pressed not to fall into the flashback with her; it's too similar, but now it's time for him to pull her to the surface.

He knows that he has to get her attention and soon or she is going to completely lose it. He pushes her to arms length and winces as she tries to fight against him and burrow back into his shoulder. He hates to see her so upset, but he has to try to bring her back into this moment. Reaching out his right hand, he braces it on her shoulder to hold her so that he can see her eyes. They'll tell him everything he needs to know. With his left hand, he cups her face and strokes his thumb down her cheek, trying to erase the tears spilling from her bloodshot eyes. She latches her hands around his wrists, no longer able to reach any other part of him. She can't lose that tether to him.

"Jemma, come now, lass," he coaxes, "Come back to me. It's not real. It's over. We're out. Look and see."

She wants to look away, to believe what she barely hears over the rush of blood in her ears, but her grip on reality is shaky at best, and she knows, just knows, that this is a trap. If she looks away, he'll be gone. If she looks away, that will be the end of her. The thought of losing him again rips the breath from her body. She's struggling to take in any air. Her chest heaving as hard as it had after she'd powered through 90 feet of water and broken the surface, dragging his dead weight behind her.

He's knows she's about to break. He can see it in her eyes and hear it in the ragged breaths she's trying to pull into her body. On the verge of hyperventilating, her vision starts to fade, which only adds to her panic.

"My god, Jem! Breathe! Come on. You've got to breathe."

Fitz is on the verge of panicking himself. He can't seem to pull her back, and he worried she's going to pass out at any moment. Her eyes have gone glassy and she is barely taking in any air. Her skin is pale and clammy, and her body is shaking from the surge of adrenaline. It's like the afternoon at the pool all over again.

Running out of options, he breaks free of her hold, knowing that it's going to make her panic even more, before twisting her around and pulling her back to his chest, locking one arm around her waist and snaking the other between her breasts to rest over her heart. It's thundering, and he knows it's now or never.

"Breathe with me, Simmons. I know you can. In and out. In and out." He repeats the mantra over and over, throwing in endearments he'd never have dared to say aloud before this moment. He's half convinced that she can't hear him anyway, but half hopeful that she can and it's helping. He never once notices that he's spoken clearly the entire time: no stuttering, no pausing to search for a word.

Simmons feels like she is trying to crawl through the water again. Her vision is blurry and everything sounds muffled. Her lungs are screaming for her to breathe, and after a minute or so she begins to realize that Fitz is all but screaming at her to breathe as well.

She tries and fails for half a minute, each breath getting stuck somewhere between her mouth and lungs, but eventually Fitz's forced but steady rhythm anchors her and she begins matching his pace, finally breathing deeply and evenly. The whole time, he's be running the side of his thumb over her heart; it's a completely unconscious act of soothing and that calms her more than anything else. In this moment, for this brief window of time, they're in synch; they're FitzSimmons. She knows it won't last, but she can't help but wish that it would.

* * *

When he's convinced that she's at least mostly back in the moment with him, he gently turns her back around. She mourns the feeling of his arms tight around her and blushes in embarrassment at him having seen her fall to pieces. He doesn't need this right now, she scolds herself. He doesn't need to be focused on her. She is being selfish, claiming his attention this way. The blush that had started in embarrassment moves quickly to a flush of anger, and she continues to berate herself silently.

"You're alright, yeah?" he questions half-heartedly. He knows she isn't, but he needs to hear her say something, anything, to know that she's back with him. He holds one of her hands, thinking that she still might need the contact, and, if he is honest, because he needs it even if she doesn't.

She swallows audibly before speaking. "Yes, I'm sorry, I…" the rest of the apology gets stuck in her throat. She's sorry for so many things that she doesn't even know where to start. She's sorry for dragging him into this mess that SHIELD has become. Sorry for every time his life was in danger because of it. Sorry that the plan she concocted meant that he'd had to make the decision to give his life for hers. Sorry she didn't fight him harder about the oxygen. Sorry that she didn't swim faster. Sorry she didn't try harder. Sorry she didn't stay. Sorry she lied. Sorry he's having to try to fix what she broke. Sorry she isn't strong enough to do it herself.

She's so caught up in her mental tally that she doesn't realize she's speaking. It's soft, but he hears it all the same. Hears the blame and anger she has directed at herself. Hears the guilt and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, too." She hears him admit and that brings her up short.

"Whatever have you got to be sorry for? You didn't do anything." She's shocked and dismayed that he thinks any of it is his fault.

"But I could've." Now his voice is choked with emotion, his speech breaking and making him even more upset. He's finally seen what their experience has done to her, and he's distressed that he has clearly only added to her suffering. She's his best friend and so much more than that, and he's pushed her to this breaking point.

"I could've…You were….you needed…and I was…" His eyes brimming with tears, he stares at her, willing her to understand what he is so desperately trying to say.

Simmons hates that she's upset him. She's forever upsetting him nowadays. "It doesn't matter what I needed, you..." she never has a chance to finish.

"Of course it bloody well matters," he interrupts, tone hard and unwavering. "You needed me, and I needed you to…needed you to…"

"Stop being so demanding, I know," she interjects, a habit too long engrained in her to stop, even when she wishes she could.

"No, you don't!"

She's startled into silence by the vehemence in his tone. "You don't know every bloody…thing. So just, just,..". He's reaching for the word, but she clamps her mouth shut, willing herself not to give into the impulse because clearly, even though she used to know what he was thinking, she doesn't now.

"Listen," he finally manages. "Just listen, yeah?" It's the weariness of his tone that compels her to really look at him, but now that he has her full attention he's almost afraid of her again.

She sees his hesitation and rather than speaking she squeezes his hand to encourage him to keep going. It's better this way, she thinks, because the words are just making everything harder even though they need to be said.

His grip had tightened, almost to the point of pain, but it is a reminder to both of them that they are here. They are alive, and they are finally talking. Still, he relaxes his hand, wary of hurting her any more than he obviously already has.

"I needed you…" he hesitates. "I needed you to need me," he finally confesses. Her brow draws up in confusion so he pushes on, wanting to get everything out in the open before he loses the words.

"I needed you to need  _me_ ," he repeats. "Me. Not my words or my hands, but me because that meant, it meant I…you still thought I was…"

This time she does interject because she finally knows the truth she needs to tell him to sooth this hurt and misunderstanding.

"Valuable," she offers. She wants to say 'worth loving', but there is too much between them, chasms of hurt that they need to cross and feelings she needs to sort out, before they can tread there.

"Yeah," he murmurs, now no longer able to look her in the eye. He's admitted it. Admitted that he was, is, broken, and that she's what he needs to be fixed. He's terrified to bare himself to her again; she's never once mentioned his confession in the pod, so he's convinced that she finds it too absurd to even discuss.

"I didn't think I deserved to, need you, that is," she admits quietly.

Emotions bubbling over, he raises his voice again. "The hell, Jemma! What could you have done that you didn't do? You got us out of that place…before we d...before we had no hope. You dragged my sorry…me…to the surface. May said you stayed with me when I was, when I, you know." He finally gives up trying to search his faulty memory for the word. She knows what he means.

"I couldn't leave, not then."

Seeing the opening, he quickly jumps on it. "So it was all fine and dandy to leave me once I could breathe on my own and...and…stumble through sentences like a…like a toddler?" The intensity of his tone on the last word cuts into her.

"No! It's just…I was…you were…everyone saw," Simmons struggles to explain.

"Saw what? That I wasn't….good," his voice cracks on the word, "enough for you anymore? That you couldn't stand to be…" She can't let him finish, but she's still reluctant to reveal the one truth she hates admitting out loud so much that she's avoided telling him for months because of what she thinks it means for them.

"That I was making you worse!" she cries, tears welling in her eyes again. "You were trying so hard, and making so much progress at first, but I wasn't helping. I was making you worse," now her voice cracks, "and everyone could see it but you."

Her confession bleeds the anger from him. He can see that she sincerely believes the lie she's just told, and he can't understand why.

"What are you going on about?" His tone demands an explanation, and she feels obligated to provide one even though admitting that she isn't good for him cuts her to the core.

"It was fine the first few weeks. You were improving so quickly, and everyone was so impressed. But you'd," she pauses to think about how to phrase this part of her confession, "get stuck, and you'd look at me, because that's what we do, did," she amends quickly.

"We finished each other's thoughts. But that wasn't helping you get back those words. So I tried not to, but that just seemed to frustrate you more, and pretty soon you couldn't say a whole sentence when I was there. Your hands shook more, and you started to lean on me even when you could things for yourself. You never did with the others, and then I knew that I was making you worse. I was holding you back. You were never going to get better with me around. So I left."

"You were the only one I trusted to see me broken and struggling. Why didn't you just….tell me why you were going?" He can make himself understand that she believes the lie about her making him worse, because that is just what it is, a lie. But he can't understand why she lied about where she was going and why.

"Because," she pauses, even warier of admitting this because of what it could imply. She's not ready to have this discussion with him. "Because you would have asked me to stay." She sucks in a breath before continuing, needing the moment to force herself to say the final words, "and I wouldn't have been able to say no, even though it was better for you."

"Bollocks! Absolute, utter bollocks!" His response is immediate, and she's dismayed to hear that she's upset him again. It seems to be the only thing she  _is_  good at lately.

His volume quiets, but it's clear he's still seething with anger and pain. "I bloody well…imagined you here when you were gone, so you might as well've stayed. Talking to you, well not  _you_ , talking to her, it was the only time I felt…like me."

It's the first time he's admitted to her that he hallucinated her. She doesn't have much time to consider the importance of that admission. He just powers on, stumbling here and there, but speaking with a level of confidence he hasn't felt in a long time.

"We're FitzSimmons. We're as fecking codependent as people can be. We never work better alone. I needed you here, and you left."

His words unlock something in her that she's buried deep. In the months since Ward left them to die, she'd only allowed herself to think about how angry she is with him on a few rare occasions. It was wrong, she had mostly convinced herself, to be angry with someone who willingly tried to give up his life for her. Somehow that rationalization feels hollow now.

"You left me too, you know. Or tried your damnedest to." She's as surprised at her obvious fury as he is. "You handed me that oxygen, fully expecting me to just take it and leave you there to die. In what universe was that ever really a viable option?"

"That wasn't…I was trying…I  _had_  to….it was the only way I could save you."

The look she gives him after his stuttered attempts at validating his choice makes him shrink back a little. An angry Jemma Simmons is a frightening Jemma Simmons, no matter how fragile she might otherwise look at the moment.

"Now," she questions, "Do you understand why I left?"

It's as close to an admission of love as she is willing to give him at the moment. She still doesn't know how to articulate what she feels for him. It's just like he said: they're FitzSimmons, a study in total codependency. Maybe one day she'll be able to tell him with the absolutely certainty they both deserve that she loves him the way her loves her, but she can't do it now. Technically, he's never said the words either, she muses, feeling less anxious about her own lack of declaration.

He considers her explanation for a moment, and he finally understands that she didn't leave because she thought he was unworthy of her. She left because she didn't want him to suffer. She'd wanted him to live and thrive, and she was convinced that he couldn't if she were there. It was everything he'd wanted for her in the pod. They'd both put each other first. Admittedly, they should have realized that being separated was never going to end well for them, but those mistakes were made. All they could do now was learn from them and try not to repeat them.

He wants to push; he wants desperately to hear her say that she loves him, but he knows she won't reveal anymore today. Some of her walls are back up now that she's remembered her anger, and, for as much as she wears her heart on her sleeve about many things, he knows that Simmons needs more time to process what she feels. Still, it's a glimmer of something more, and his heart soars. She cares, deeply and unreservedly. She cares enough to suffer in silence for months while he's pushed her away. For now, that understanding and hope is enough for him. He knows that they have to remember how to be FitzSimmons before they can ever hope to be something more.

She's just starting to get unnerved at the way he is staring at her, his face oddly devoid of emotion as he processes her last statement. She's feeling a little annoyed that her almost, halfway veiled admission of "feelings" doesn't prompt a bigger reaction, but then she sees it: the twinkle in his eye and the start of the grin she honestly thought she would never have directed at her again.

Before she can drink in the sight of his happiness, he engulfs her in his arms again, squeezing her tight as if enough pressure can mend the lingering fissures between them that they both know are there. When he feels her smile against his neck, he can't help the cheesy quality his grin takes on. They're not fine, but they are closer to being FitzSimmons than they have been since Ward left them for dead.

Simmons, for all she's cried over the last several weeks, doesn't think she has any tears left, but apparently this occasion warrants some waterworks as well, though at least they are happy tears this time. Fitz pulls back immediately when he feels the moisture on his neck. Luckily, the beaming smile on her face is enough to assure him that she's just as happy as he is that they've taken this huge step forward together.

* * *

Still, the bags under her eyes and the pallor of her skin are as noticeable as they were during their first finals week at Sci-Tech. He's fairly certain that they didn't get more than 48 hours of sleep between them during that 6-day period, and he wonders how much sleep she's had in the past week.

Though Simmons hasn't noticed it, Fitz can feel the quavering of her muscles, and, while he's no bio-chemist, he does know that she needs to sit immediately. Otherwise, she may collapse in his arms. Fortunately, there is a couch shoved in one corner of the lab, and he pulls her along beside him as he makes his way over to it. Though a bit bemused at his insistence, Simmons makes no effort to protest; she is exhausted, and sitting down seems like an excellent plan.

She is convinced that they're going to continue the conversation, but he has other plans. She needs sleep in the worst way, and he's going to make sure she gets it, even if it means engaging in a little calculated deception to force her to take a nap in the middle of the day.

Folding his lanky form into the corner, he motions for her to sit beside him. He's already pulled out his phone by the time she settles in. She sits, resting her weight on her right hip so that her upper body faces him while her legs are curled on the cushion behind her. Since she's left a conspicuous space between them, he realizes that no matter how far they've come in the last half hour she's still a bit more reserved around him than she had been. He can't stand the thought that she feels like she has to maintain that physical barrier even now.

Snaking an arm behind her shoulders, he pulls her flush against his side where he knows she'll be comfortable and able to see the screen of his phone. He's pleased when she immediately wriggles a little closer, tucks her head between his neck and shoulder, and stretches her legs out along the cushions. She's pleased that he evidently wants the contact.

He thumbs through the menu of his phone before settling on a video. It's their favorite episode of Dr. Who, "The Girl in the Fireplace," and he hopes that the familiarity of watching it together will soothe away any lingering tension in her form. His hopes are realized about 15 minutes in as she slowly nods off to sound of his lilting brogue as he supplies their traditional commentary. She tries to contribute, but he is warm and solid and her body needs the rest even if she would rather spend the next several hours talking to him.

Once he thinks that she's sleeping soundly, he shifts toward the armrest so that he can stretch out his legs alongside hers. His movement causes her to stir for a moment, and he sucks in a breath waiting to see if she'll wake up. She doesn't, but she does curl a bit more onto her side to tuck herself closer to his warmth. His eyes soften even more as he watches her settle her head above his heart and let out a soft sigh.

He wants to freeze this moment in time, but it's not long before his eyelids begin to droop and he joins her in slumber. It takes less than an hour for them to gravitate even closer in sleep, their limbs tangling to the point that it isn't clear where one of them ends and the other begins.

* * *

It's Skye who stumbles upon them a few hours later. She's been wandering around a bit like a zombie for days, but the sight of FitzSimmons curled together on the couch finally brings a smile to her face. Trip had always told her that their resident geniuses would find their way back together again. His faith in them had never waivered. Her smile fades a little at the thought that he isn't around to see that he was right all along; even still, the sight of the two of them together again lets her start hoping that maybe what is left of them will make it through this in the end.

She can't help whipping out her phone and taking several pictures, especially once she realizes that Simmons has drooled a little. She doubts that she'll feel up to teasing them any time soon, but blackmail material this good has to be saved. With a ghost of a smile still on her face, she turns away to find May and Coulson. They'll want to see evidence that FitzSimmons is finally making a comeback, and she's more than happy to be the one to provide it.


	7. Epilogue: Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone. This is the final chapter of this fic. It's very short, but I really wanted this kind of closure for FitzSimmons. Hopefully, we'll see something similar in the show sooner rather than later. I hope you have enjoyed this fic. Thanks for reading!

**Epilogue**

They've only just scratched the surface of the misunderstandings between them, so they continue to discuss what happened; some conversations involve tears and raised voices while others are full of smiles and embraces, but they don't have nearly as much time to find themselves again as they would like. Hydra continues to bait SHIELD at every turn, and Skye needs their help to learn how to control her newfound powers. Still, they're FitzSimmons more often than they are Fitz and Simmons nowadays, and that is the kind of progress they both want.

A few weeks after their reunion, a critical realization sneaks up on Simmons without any warning. She's been working diligently to examine Skye's DNA to try to find the source of her powers. Her concentration is so intense that she doesn't notice the mug of tea someone has left for her until its nearly too cold to drink. When she finally sees it, she freezes.

It's the mug she'd broken weeks ago, except that it isn't. It's crack-free and perfect. Nary a chip is missing. She stares at it in disbelief for a moment. It has to be Fitz, she thinks. No one else would take on the trouble of fixing that mug. She'd gone back for the pieces herself after they'd started to make their peace with each other, but the shards had been gone, and she'd assumed one of her technicians had just binned them. She'd been upset, of course, but she hadn't had much time to dwell on it. Clearly, he'd nipped the shards from the lab, but she can't comprehend how he's fixed it so perfectly.

It takes her a moment to realize that he hasn't. This isn't the same mug. The weight is a little off and the handle is a bit thinner. He's gone and bought her a new one to replace the one she broke. She's not really sure how he managed to find one so similar. The letters are perfect replicas even if the cup itself is a little different. As touched as she is, she can't help but wish that she still had the original. She lets out a small sigh before lifting the mug and taking a quick sip of the lukewarm tea. Though tepid, it's just as she likes it.

She nearly chokes when she finally notices the other mug on her desk. She hadn't given it a second glance earlier when she'd pulled a pen from it, but now she takes the time to give it a closer look. Fitz  _had_  fixed the original, but he hadn't used the haphazardly mixed epoxy she'd made. No, he'd filled in the cracks with what appeared to be white gold. The little streams of precious metal make the broken mug seem like a work of art. Simmons knows she'll never be able to drink her tea from it again, but that doesn't mean that she has to leave it in the past.

It's rather symbolic, she muses as she stares at her tea mug turned pencil holder. They can mend the old while still embracing what's new. The old won't ever be quite the same, but he's shown her that they can fill the gaps and forge new spaces together to make something beautiful.

As soon as she finishes the thought, she feels something click into place, and the uncomfortable feeling of being a little adrift even now that they've made their way back to each other finally settles. She knows with absolute certainty what she feels for him. She's always known that she loves him. Of course she loves him. But now she finally understands the depths of her love. She's only just finished having her realization when he walks into the lab, using the same entrance she had when she'd returned from Hydra. How different this encounter will be, she thinks.

All she can do at first is stare. She knows that she's smiling like a lunatic, but she can't really help it. He stares back, a little unnerved by how widely she's grinning: a smile that big usually means that she's had entirely too much fun dissecting something. He glances nervously at the desk he usually uses, half expecting to see a cat's liver amidst the tools and debris.

When he looks back, his heart starts racing. She's looking at him with such fondness and tenderness that her smile starts to hint at something else entirely, but he can't bring himself to believe it.

Seeing doubt and hope warring in his eyes, she closes the distance between them in a flash, cupping his cheek with one hand and gripping his short curls with the other as she surges up to crush their mouths together. She'll try for more finesse later, but for now she can't curb her enthusiasm.

He's stunned at first, and he takes so long to respond that she nearly pulls back, afraid that his feelings have changed. He regains his senses quick enough to tighten his hold on her waist before she can break away. They lose themselves in the frisson of love that swells as their kiss deepens.

Finally breathless, they break apart just enough that she can cup both of his cheeks in her hands.

The mile-wide grin has returned, and the happiness fizzing inside her breaks free in a bubbling little giggle before she can say the words they both need to hear. She takes in a deep breath, locking her eyes with his, and speaks with such clarity and conviction that the genuineness of her words is unquestionable.

"I love you, Fitz."

Once the words have left her mouth, she can't help the tears that spring into her eyes. Neither can he. She's lets out a watery chuckle and then leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder, moving one arm to encircle his waist while resting the other between his shoulder blades.

He turns his head a little to press a kiss to her hair before pulling her even closer and whispering, "I love you, too." Her confession has made him so emotional that his voice waivers a little, but his conviction is just as strong as hers.

He'd be content to hold her just like this for hours, basking in their love for each other, but Hydra has other plans. Coulson's voice blares over the intercom.

"Simmons, find Fitz and meet me at the Bus immediately. We've got a situation."

"I'm here, sir." Fitz responds, the tone of his voice still a little dreamy.

"We'll be right there," Simmons answers at the same time, her voice muffled in Fitz's neck.

Despite the urgency of the Director's order, they untangle themselves rather slowly, reluctant to end the embrace. With one final squeeze, Simmons releases Fitz and tries to step back and away from him. His wide palm on her back halts the movement. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against hers so softly that it can't really be considered a kiss. Still, she feels it all the way down to her toes and lets out a sigh of happiness and contentment.

Grabbing his hand, she interlocks their fingers. She can't quite bring herself to stop touching him as they make their way through the maze of hallways toward the hangar.

If anyone has a comment about their intertwined fingers and blissful smiles, they wisely keep it to themselves. Still, a few of them—namely May, Bobbi, and Mack—have to hide their grins as Coulson starts to fill them in on their next mission.

"Okay, so here's the plan…"

* * *

Fin.


End file.
